A Sonnet for Ilya

Devaki’s spawn, India’s dawn herald my Saturday
To light from dark, I’ll make my mark, my time to ricochet

A generation wakes up to a call for less humdrum
The Apple of its eye shall be the shape of things to come

A monk does burn, the village turns, the richter scale is high
A hundred kith do greet their kin, emotions running high

The market spins from warring twins of currency and trade
To occupy, to live or die, to keep a promise made

The summer stretches long and bright, experience is high
I learn to work, explore my quirk and question ‘Who Am I’

With Boom Boom Pow what happens now, a magical healing
To vivify this butterfly, you Can’t Stop the Feeling

The sturgeon moon shall guide the tune of melodies unsung
To sparkle more the peridot that stays Forever Young

References & Inspirations:




When Arya Fell Through the Fault