The Wisdom's Drown - Poem by Abhitha Sathiyaraj
T'is the art that fell from the lips of Muses
Fostered and groomed in the arms of masses
Since the dawn of light, through the darken'd days
Writhing wretchedness to be shoved aside.
The wondrous shapes and lines on parchments old.
Life in yellowed tones told
Of men and women in the course of grander dawns
Never fearing, ne'er perspiring in the drab
Lost, we have, all the glories of the ages past,
No more are those perfect lines cast
In no tales and no verses they appear
The language of the higher power.
Ecstasy those firm sounds provides,
Tumbling down from deepest desires.
Deprived are we of those magnificent ways,
What more canst I say!
Faded are the coat of arms,
Tarnished the silver swords.
Rusted and brittled, bravery
Courage has fled with mockery.
Oh, what age is this? Such misery!
Shalt of course end in despondency!
Not one single knight doth rise
In these bloodstained land that grieves.
Valour is mocked and chivalry lost
Morality choked and jealous boasts.
To Ruin these paths do lead
There blood shall flow instead of tide.
No dawn, no morning, nothing bright,
Only worries and daily rambles slight.
Conceit and corruption murdered all rights,
Protest and violence slay all might.
Oh! what radiant sunrises we have passed?
The times when knights and kings surpassed
All unworthy thoughts in their empires great.
Never more shalt those times again open gates.
Misery, yes, misery wherever my eyes fall
This must be the mankind's pall!
Surely, those dark clouds resemble the shroud.
How much more shalt you brag, oh ye proud?
They hold their head high in arrogance,
Unaware of the sterling stiletto's diligence.
Knowledge did seem to the new age's dawn,
Now, alas, it shall be the mortals' drown.
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