Voice Of A Commoner Poem by Aakash Solanki

O! Great giants of this time
To you I address these words
O! Millionaires O! People with power
Don't cage those prosperity birds

Let them fly off and reach every nook
Reach even the poor, the desolate, the child
Let them heal the injuries of injustice
The wounds of misery, both fatal and mild

Amidst acute sufferings, why do you
Lie lethargic in your lavish lounge?
When agony is what people face everyday
Some are forced to steal, some beg, some scrounge

People homeless, starve on the street, die
But who wants to know, why they wail, why they cry
Gloomy faces, greet your big cars, as they pass by
How can you afford luxuries, when you see all of them wry?

When you see so much despair
Doesn't your heart tend to care?
How can you admit, it's all fair,
When inside me, it, ignites a flare

The pursuit of happiness, forgotten, lost
Intense work and stress, at one's health's cost
Ambitions, flamed, in the fire of rivalry
Vying at every step, demand of chivalry

Listen O! Giants,
I don't doubt your dexterity
I condemn your extravagance
Your donations don't reach the needy
What you lack, is true essence

My advice to you
'even the colourless, dimmest white light
Gives colours passing through prism
Be like a prism, let the light be your wealth
And adopt multitudinism'