Echo Poem by neha sharma

Echo

The world is making a call,
It is time we listen to the call,
Or at least feel the echo,
This resounds,
From every hill and spring,
If any there may be.
Big Ben has struck high time,
The clock is oscillating,
The sand clock with its final crystals of sand,
The calendar has begun to end.
So, where are we heading?
I am dying,
You are dying,
We are dying.
In and out,
Up and down,
Chaos and debris.
Somebody help please,
Will we keep dying in hope,
Hopeless, with no solution?
Will we keep pleading for help,
With no endeavors on our part?
Will we point fingers,
Pent up in glasshouses?
Lend a hand,
Extend your arm,
In help, in love,
Clutch the drowning man,
Lest the world sinks,
Lest we become history,
Carved not on rocks,
If any there may be,
Not on leaves either,
If any there may be.
Compassion, harmony,
These empty yet words so dear,
Hold a meaning so clear.
Listen to the calling,
Listen to that voice,
Etched at the back of our minds.
United we stand,
Separated we fall.
United we stand,
We will hold the world,
We will change the scenario,
When we stand together, we will finish the end,
When our shoulders meet.
It is me,
It is you,
It is we,
Who will dare to make a change.
The world is making a call,
It is time we realize the echo,
It is within me,
It is within you,
It is within us,
Not in hills,
Not in springs either,
If any there may be.