Excessive anything brings disarray,
Be love or hate, lust or one’s pride;
If once induced in disproportionate,
Like inflated balloons confined a life.
When love’s more, may spin to
hate,
And hate that could go blind;
Lust that shalt abuse psyche,
In pride whereas there’s no
stride.
Ackers that make even strongest
minds,
When fed in surfeit to feel omnipotent;
But when wrinkles on cutis can’t
stop time,
Looked in skies as unknown what
comes next.
Stories were told since ancient
times,
Of what excessive anything
brought;
There weren’t lessons learnt till
today,
As globalism too became a contemporary
blot. :(
©
Pranav Chaturvedi 2020