That my lord was made of a thousand eyes
Sands of time pass through his relentless seive
What remains then of all these moonshots?
I knew when I roamed the world with him
No eye sees another's star be it a thousand, or two
My planet turns at its own pace, that moment's
crystal held in our invisible ring will fade too
I knew my hand will be held again on misty nights
And time's dark child will slip out of his cell
He will cross the Yamuna again and Radha will
Ask, what remained then of all those moon shots?
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