DANCING OF THE SPOON

The table!
The plate!
And the spoon,
Dancing Nearby.
Swaying to,
This and that.
Better are thee
The living compound
Bearing the tinkle
In sound divine

The spoon
Which feeds
The mouth
Hurridly comes
Down the plate.
It knows
What the satiety
Demands of
The Motherly love.
Basing itself
In support
Of the table
On the lap

More glitter
I could see
In the eyes
Of all the
Shiny compounds,
Than all the
Wisdom galore
In stony eyes
Hidden inside;
In stomach,
It survive.

Dearth of life, remains
In the living walk
Of human dead.
Immortality gains
For all inanimates
The living compound
In thy gaze,
In the dancing
 Of the spoon!