Tuesday, 13 May 2014

The Miracle Fluke

I threw a ball towards the sky
a random angle as one does
The ball bounced of a steeple
With a hissing kind of buzz
It must have hit the puncture point
With such accurate connection
As though the steeple concentration
Has penchant for rejection
This thought I had not met before
Among the masses of our people
Who feel the point of every miracle
Is a pinnacle of the steeple

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