Clones Of The Queue Poem by Preet Mendiratta

The choice of logic and the voice of imagination
The sheeps find trouble to choose
The acquired keepings are one of marvels
Replacing the acceptance is worth the lose
The state of being alone is an honour we take
The flowers that bloom of the meditative
Is one of power and of great faith
The herd is moving towards the freshest grass they can find
One which the eye spots a significance
We do graze on many but a liberating kind
The younglings venture a path of accordance
We don't expect the shepherd to mine for gold
Our kind is one of aberrance
But a mind of fury and a brain ever bold
The morals are kept under the morels cold
The fact that freedom is allowed to mate with the mind
Is the glass of wine chanting deliverance from a view
And as we stand in the assembly of free will
We part ways with the clones of the queue