They have been increasing garbage in the underworld,
And have been waiting for an Angel to come as a sweeper,
Once in a century the sweeper comes as a thunder-world,
And goes back to skies leaving earth looking a bit cleaner,
Though I was born in an era when the human shaped devils
Met on a ship and declared, in future there would be no war,
But soon they started excreting the same old dirty evils,
Here's a microscopic molecule of protein, unconquered so far!
What a death we shall face what a life we had got!
Who will survive and who will be changed again in the clay!
Probability is unconcerned; it's time that's running the slot,
Both are on the same disc with the fair and with unfair play.
What a true lover I am O God, O Satan salute me today,
I don't know whether nature has or it has no alternate,
Seventy five goals against me still I run and still I play,
As I have no alternate and I accept it as my written fate!
aap is very good many read you JA SIR why don't now read me u
Another gem of a piece from your mighty pen. Always a pleasure to read you. Very profound thoughts poured out beautifully. A big 10.
Immersive! There are many alternates of the things existed here, but except nature, life. Sensitive.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Another wonderful poem worth to ponder about. Insightful lines crafted by a great mind.