The Seed Of Illusion Poem by Aaryan Irani

Upon vast tracks of land
the grass lay;
though, stretched in bands
glittered lush and gay.
For such land to tread on
how can one play
on that which glazes plastic
and lies still in the wind?
Polished hues of green and grey
No tree nor plant on which the sparrows sing?

Where chromium poles sprout
on which the plastic web lay, stitched through the air.
Once, where dandelions and weeds lay
have succumbed to the plague of bricks that stay
on which the plastic was stretched taut.
What fun is there to run on such false tastes
when the feel of nature is lost?

Brick upon brick, cement and stone
on which the seed of illusion is sown.