The sky is too huge a misery,
With wind that blows a weed –
Wipes off at its soft strength.
And with a sturdy rain that may take away a trace at the moment –
May very well leave one cold for long.
But to this,
We put a dot.
Through his deathless ocean of patience,
The train of gears is re-tracked.
Signboard announces for service –
To shoot the moon,
The stars,
And the whole ball of wax.
--- J. Quinto
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