Cycle Of Madness Poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay

On the unknowing soil is sown
The seeds of knowledge
That the grown-up farmers fertilize
With education, or is it information?
The soil feels the pressure of harvesting
That it must yield right and enough
It must yield to make the harvesters proud.
Thunder strikes it, it the rain washes
And the sun often parches it arid.
The tilling goes on
The harder the soil,
More stubborn is the tiller.
The soil cracks
It bleeds and can yield no more.
True to its roots
And what it could have been
It pines for escape.
What it sees
None else sees
What it speaks
None understands
The living corpse moves around
An alien amongst the aliens
Consigned to isolation
Abandoned in asylum
Innocent turned insane.
Then the next one and the next one…..
A harvesting cycle of madness!