A bubble called world.

Whose world is it anyway?

The world of colors, the world which is black.

The depth of life, as deep as death.

Does it belong to the doves fighting for the olive branch?

Or is it of the resting truth, hidden in the winter shed.

World of demands; labeled as needs,

World of dreams; dream which sleeps,

World of my god; my faith, my creeds,

World of cries; tears that no one sweeps.

World of the rich or the world of fickle swarm?

World of Marx’s idea or world of Gandhi’s calm?

World of hunger or the world of falling array?

Or is it of the glowing shelter; the glow of an ash tray?

The world of possessions; the world with boundaries.

Division of territory, divide in the eerie breeze.

The world of poets; world of his conflicting expression,

World of my smile, smile that is an exception.

Or is it of our constant friendship that was crucified.

Or is it of the mother’s emotion; emotions that dried.

Or is it of the passion to win; to own, to kill,

or does it belong to my religion; a received devil.

Wants the world, owns nobody.

Demands the world, owns nobody.

Dreams a Hindu, aspires a Muslim,

Brothers in crime, executes nobody.

Plans a Sikh, seeks a Christian,

Brothers in crime, executes nobody.

Lost we may be, signage are incessant,

Roads may have ended, skies are persistent.

Let’s be the light let’s be the love,

Let’s end the fight, let’s be the dove.

Let’s share the sorrow, let’s abet,

Let’s bring peace,

Let’s be the opening cresset…

Thank you.

peace.