The sprint along the untrodden track
To keep pace with the sublimity
Superlative despite his flaws and folly
An unequal self of the egalitarian lot
And still an unfinished perfection
Unsurpassable as an infinite horizon
While the throng is struck in ripples
Emanated from an unshakeable ore
The Master excels to ccreate his aura
While the sun manages to ring a halo
And the breeze blows his soft tune
Somewhere amidst the cloud and the wave
He holds his gait to perfection :
He who fears not to dissolve
In the taste of brine
In the charred sky of night
In the flutter of twilight
In the grayness of the wave
The throng knows not whom they follow
For the Master has no face
Only his form to follow
And the elongated forms
Of those that follow
The Master steps on these shadows
Of those who actually lead the way
Somehow believe they can only follow
00.19 hrs
2073
13.7.23
Delhi
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