In the dark of their life
Their shadows tickled their quagmire
The decorations of whips
Which like gullies beseeched their backs
Bellowed benignly into our future schemes
Silently preached enlightenment
on our path
Their whistles of hope never paused
For their unity unto itself--was a law
But now we journey to the West
From these parts: our better West
And it jabs our land
Like a stone under the foot of a child
If and when we would decide to read poetry or a piece of discerning article a day, our world is, then headed for a change. No magic potion whatsoever: if there were, politicians would have used it a long time ago. Our mind is all that we have; the only exception to tricks of all corners and angles. Enjoy the luxury and peace of poetry...
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