Sunday, November 15, 2015

The Craft of Humans.

The heart grafted with fear
Man walks in haste
One step quickly ahead the other.
Everyone looking over their shoulder
No one feels safe even in the safest place.
The beauty of today
Injured by the fear of tomorrow
Oh the fear of the next moment.

The ones coming and going
Have a reason to be suspicion.
No one is sure of the good intention of the other.
Even the wind fears what it'll bring
In the direction of movement.
Will it increase the burning heat of pain
Or be a soothing effect from the burnt?
None seems to know
How much of man's intention is reflected in his action.

The difficulty experienced by mankind
Is inflicted by man himself.
Somehow, man believes something is different with another.
Forgetting we all but have same features.
Starting from the head to the toes.
Yet man seems not to associate with that.
And rather fight because of that
That's abstract.

The cruelty of humankind
Wrapped with a beautiful foil of belief
Has separated man from each other.
But a look at the mirror
Can only reflect an image of man's look alike.
How that count?
None can say with the difference in man intention.

The flow of blood
Has become the drainage of sorrow
Linked with the ocean of uncertainty,
Of how safe the world is
Or the safety of the world of the lost souls.
All has turned to the supreme being
With a common request
Irrespective of the medium
Man's world needs help to be a safe abode.

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