(Life is struggling within barbed fences. Is it not time we ripped away these fences for a fresher life?)
Where the winds blow not in mellower tones,
Where the springs visit not in ripening hues,
Where man is sharpening his ears for intruding steps,
Here, in this no man's land, life is but a pantomime.
My country and your country, my rules and thine,
My culture and heritage, your chieftaincy and clans,
Dales lie divided, man is within barbed fences,
Look at the birds - they are measuring the Poles in one sweep.
Histories can be many, holdings can be countless,
Views very much derisive, judgment one-sided.
Yet, the rivers can forge and meet,
See, life has re-surged from ruins often times.
Wait not until it is dark and desolate,
Wait not until your life is an endless weep.
See, we are all travelers of the same train,
We need each other till the destinations are reached.
25/06/2016
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