Next Poem by Neeraj Mishra

Any queue we were in,
Wherever we were happy.
Because the queue was moving forward..
There was someone who constantly sound "next".
The queue was moving forward..
System had given us the habit of never stopping.
We used to give this habit the name of progress.
We all define life differently..
Someone said that life is of four days.
Someone told that this is a pleasant journey.
Someone said that life is a war.
And while hearing the sound of "next"...
We came to such a destination,
Where another truth came to know.
That by adding eyes to our eyes,
When "next" will be spoken,
So the reaction of our eyes will tell
What was this life for us.