Thy glasses now gather dust,
that once gave us clear vision,
Your
woven dreams, a fashion,
which then adorned the nation,
Your
idol, a weapon now crazy,
ideals so selfishly chosen,
Morals
decorate the walls,
essence conveniently forgotten.
Your
words, now a caged artwork,
which shook confinement mighty,
Quotes
stud the chattering,
that once roared the skies lofty,
We
lost your hard-earned sovereign,
in sheer ignorance and frenzy,
We
made a mere brand out of you,
to quench our thirst, nasty.
You
lived the sacrifice until death,
we just chant definition,
Utterly
ashamed we are,
even to submit a confession,
Trapped
we are in a quagmire,
leeches sucking the nation,
Help
us, O Souls Supreme,
bless us with reincarnation.
■ Death Anniversary of Mahatma Gandhi
(Select lines from my English poetry book)
*****
