Monday, August 17, 2020

The Rift

 There’s a Wall that ain’t buttress trust,

A Street where woke liberals rust;

Journal in which both inscribe,

As indoctrinated to promote when high.

 

As high as one can go & touch the sky,

Aren’t alone in world that shops sells;

Look east or west like moving hands on cue ball,

Generations erected by misusing alarm bells.

 

And rang where when none was stuck,

Nor struck; But sheltered island -> hearsay;

As long as one dwelled in ‘a quiet place’,

Exemplar it set all over how one gets pay.

 

So need a rift that opened ain’t closed,

Takes before where present is showed;

What world with excessive & in excessive blind!

Is there descend or shine, you decide! 😊

© Pranav Chaturvedi 2020