“Balancing till the end is the true art
as trying can be done by a fluttered heart:
I wondered, as I moved on to be brain-washed,
by people appearing in varied vestures.
In a world moulded by robber barons’ wish
Personal gods determine a perceptional good or bad dish,
the mundane minds strive for coined happiness and success
ignoring that panspermia can be someone, confess.
Facts may lie bare to the eye
hands tainted with “educated” blood or civilized cry,
war of egos and biased ethical trials
empty reality, people divided by imaginary lines”.
I simply ask for one not eluded by art
maybe a little about above euphemestic cart.
But who am I to present an idea,
I’ll soon join the form of emptiness, the truth.