By Kristina Sarma
Lens of history, I wore,
river of poverty was flowing.
Hunger and illiteracy formed as tributaries,
they often caused flood and many did die.
But privileged were not affected for,
they were not on the banks.
Time passed,
there was competition,
there was hunger,
there was illiteracy,
But there was hope,
though a little billion light years away.
Little did people know,
river was bound to change its course.
But should we be surprised?
For it doesn't respect boundaries,
and never did.
Dreams were shattering,
eyes were filled with tears.
Deep down I knew,
I have to take those glasses off and,
feel everything twice.
The age old tradition of men looting men,
men killing men, was never new.
But you never want to dive deep into those chapters, do you?
The phrase change is the only constant,
have never been so clear.
The flow created havoc.
There were innumerable deaths,
disease itself was not new but the variants were.
Like every story has two sides, this was no exception,
some blamed the experiments performed,
on the laboratory of Earth, and some,
the ruthless nature.
Life seemed like a spiral of never ending waves,
once again it was made clear.
Life was all about exploring, adjusting and surviving,
it's not a competition and never was.