I was a blank sheet
With no any writing on it
When I was born;
I was a flower blooming
With dew drop wet
When I was a child
With a smiling
Then, everything thrusted into me;
The things that I observed from my parents
The things that I learnt from my teachers
The things that I read from books and doctrines
I, the blank sheet is now full of writing
Devoid of my true essence and my thinking.
You call me a Hindu;
I call you a Buddhist
We call them Muslims and Christians,
Forgetting that we are all human.
Yet, we still have the heart rushing to rescue
A man fell on the road bleeding
May he be a Hindu, Buddhist, Christian
Or a Muslim.
Yet, we have the heart to be pleasant
Looking at a child smiling in the bus or any public place.
Then, I become a blank sheet again
With no any writing on it.
Topic(s) of this poem: humane