We are but devotees of love,
Slave of aspiration and so forth
And do we remain enslaved like a dove,
To the fist of time hence forth.
Shall we falter our ways and shall we forge,
Shall we dream small and large,
Shall we on our pathways slumber and drowse
And shall we with pains still endure.
Are we thus dubbed human,
For we move on with bittersweet stories: some to be forgotten some to be tended;
We are not mere illusions.
We are born with conscience,
By way of which, despite every failure, can teach a lesson to move forward;
We are not mere dreams.
We are not slave to dream if we dare to fulfill.
Topic(s) of this poem: hunger
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.