Innocuous Star

You think it is the star
That governs our conditions
The one you always blame
Giving hundreds of reasons.

You think it is the star
That makes us quirk
The one you always fight with
For ruining up your work.

You think it is the star
That makes you succumb
The one you always mock at
But it stays patiently numb.

The fault, let me tell you
Is not in our stars
But in your hard work
Captive in your labour’s jars.

You cannot always defend
Reasoning out to fate
The dust of your destiny
Does not come on a silver plate
What you wanted from the stars
Only hard work will show
The dust is a waste until you make it glow.

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