We Will Start It Again Poem by Aftab Alam

Farmers come with finger clenched,
Seed on their hand
They return opened palm,
Not even a single grain of sand,

Yield of their sown seed,
They left and go,
That’s the earning,
Unseen they take; you know,

More and more yield
No vacant field,
The day is not far,
We will capture all,

No, it is not possible,
Master's catastrophic will,
Will adjust all …..
We will start it again,
From where we began