In the Tavern one noisy night
I began to think if things were right,
We look at stars with  a fondness in the heart
But never on all, do shining stars shed their light.

They pick and choose the time of day
When to some they show the way
And, for those not on that list
It’s hope, hope and pray.

Can’t blame the stars, for the numbers here
Grow faster than they do out there
Patience, now a forgotten art
And lost, to Time, are concern and care.

So, drink, O Man, ere the Tavern closes
For, the tavern-keeper his promises keeps
He, the one with the Scythe of Time not the Cup
For He, but, never dozes nor sleeps

So, fill your Cup or the Goblet true
The night is yours, no remorse, why rue,
No one returns to the place one leaves
No one knows, no one has a clue .

No one saw the Morrow, today
Soothsayers know well on how to prey
On our mortality- driven fears
And, their “starry” games, they, then play

So, make the most of the winds that blow your way
They might well change their minds, some day,
O Journeyman, for that is all we are in this world
Sins, we commit and then, in full, do we pay.

So, lift the Cup to your lips and drink
And, do so to your hearts content,
Many are the fools like me, O Ashok
Who have drowned their sorrows in Merriment.

(The author is a prolific poet who has over 30 poetry books to his credit. He can be reached at ashoksawhny06@gmail.com/ www.ashoksawhny.com)