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All River Sage Sonnets


The quake its epicenter outward sends,
To rectify its kinds is not to break,
Our ceaseless march to our mortal ends,
But just to make us do a double take
And dwell upon our puny littleness.
To understand the larger scheme of days
It has its own methods to address
That loves to stop us in our errant ways
Then just to see that we do not mistake
Its microsecondal shocking in our stride,
It sends the after shocks in its wake,
Around its epicentre far and wide.
The puniness of man is thus reveled,
Which would have otherwise remained concealed.

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