The Perfect Vision

Dedicated to humanity

I stood in front of a little wooden box
Mellow at first touch,
And coarse by the next
Curious, I slid open its crest.

It had two pairs of glasses
One rimmed with a golden frame
The other all rotten and rust
I decided, that try them I must.

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Road to Freedom

That day when we rid ourselves of corruption and greed; that moment when we fight, not among each other but FOR; that fleeting passage of time when we realize WE matter, then we can call ourselves FREE. Till then let us tread the hard path!

Long ago, when the world was chaotic, at a time, when no one knew the meaning of peace, when everything was gloomy, God decided to create a fine feathery creature; perhaps the last ray of light to rid the world of it’s dark times!

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The Last One Standing

What would it feel to be the last of the human race!

The dark liquid like substance kept hitting his leg as if it wanted him to stay with it forever. The loneliness was so prevalent that even the stinking sea seemed to crave for attention. And he was the odd man out; the living amongst the dead and the pile of junk.

The last human he had seen was a half dead woman lying in the ditches and that was months ago. Slowly he had lost count of time. It seemed to have lost its meaning. For him it just dragged on. He was merely surviving, just out of hope that someday he’ll meet another living being… he was there just for the heck of it!

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The Warrior

And there was a warrior who believed he had conquered everything!

Standing amidst the stench
Of the one thousand dead men
That he had heaped on the bloody ground
The warrior, clad in his unyielding armor
And brandishing a razor sharp sword,
Thumped his chest and laughed at the world.

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Why Is It?

A lot of questions; elementary but probably unanswerable…

Why is it, that,
Caste ridden society can never progress
Yet no society has known to be sans-caste?

Why is it, that,
A man is tongue tied seeing his beloved
When they are meant to chit-chat for eternity?

Why is it, that,
Men need borders to keep organized
Whilst the heart roams scot-free?

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