Ofcourse, I am all bruised
after all those efforts
to rub my shoulders with the giants.
Geniuses like Hawking, though confined to a chair
and far away like a quasar
unsettle me in apocalyptic terms.
Species of this breed, who would, in a fraction of second
light up the dark corners of a confusing world
drive me to my room and bolt up my sociability.
I grew impervious to their success stories over time
and learnt to cleverly sidetrack the conversation
and discuss things of the immaterial world.
Despite the care I take to muffle such noise
there are some inevitabilities that crop up.
When I hear of a character from the past
stretching the limits of my imagination.
That is when I succumb to the pangs of hope.