Here we are in the cyber century
Doing, what we aren’t supposed to do.
Experimenting on human lives,
And therefore creating the same.
Modifying them unethically
We end up creating creatures which the creator himself has not made.
The creator, in his heavenly abode
Controls his anger, till he can’t hold it anymore,
His third eye opens as he sits in his flying chariot,
The panchabhutas bow at him as he passes by,
And at once follow him as they are his integral part.
Shattering the damaged shield of earth,
Entered the almighty himself,
His fierce red eyes groan in disaster,
Looking at the state of disorder the world has been put to.
Egressing out of the third eye,
Appears the fire god, raging in anger he touches the human flesh,
And at last forces the devil out.
Like this he goes around the entire globe,
Cleansing every soul,
And collecting all devils into a mighty bag.
He opened the bag when he was done,
Shocked he was to see a mighty, fiery and ugly beast come out,
Tattered clothes it wore, and it had unkempt hair,
A massive ivory chain hung on it,
On which hung bones with scars of red,