Saturday, January 10, 2015

I write

Today I shall write for none,
I lost my story that you loved,
One with a king and a queen,
Living happily in the world of hate.

I shall write not to be understood,
For you don't know the source of story,
Petty you! You swim in river,
without knowing the source.

I heard you complaining,
About color of water and the dirt,
Never you wanted to know,
What made the river dirty?

With the heart full of love and compassion,
King was loved and respected,
Slowly he was poisoned with the divide of class,
Like river hugs the dirt of city.

Enough said the King,
Love and compassion dried,
He started playing on path to hatred,
King assimilated in the mass.

Night after night of darkness,
King rode on the forbidden,
And popular path; Until,
A voice called upon from behind.

You are what you are,
Not by the face and clothes,
But by the thought you generate,
Ride on, But people loved that King.

That King, who still warns the people,
At the gate of the path where this king rides,
Morning is about to come,
I write not to be known.








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