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A reflective poem that decries the madness of Man, by Anoucheka, in Different Truths.
Man is mad,
So it would seem
He births, exalts at it
Enjoys, uses, and even abuses
To the extent of feeling dejected
At the time of realising how much
He loses, in the very end!
A soul he is, inhabiting a body
A body he has, driven by senses
A being he is, depending on his heart
An existence he has been willed, void and meaningless
A conscience, which even if it keeps knocking
Is never taken into consideration!
Rather, Man makes it a must
A duty even,
To follow the sick routines of life
To be one among the millions
To live like the mad!
Man exalts so much at himself
That he cares not if his feet
Trample on flowers
Causing them pain as they die
He cares not if his wastes
Contribute to the murder of Mother Earth
By injecting in her throat more and more of toxins
He worries not if he uses too much
Of that which offers Earth
He sees not that someday
Because of him
No one will be able to enjoy the glow of the rainbow!
Man, in the very end, remains an unborn child
A foetus shrouded in the dark comfort of a womb
Man sees not that which surrounds him
Man sees not the courage of the one who carried him
Man cares not about it
Man cares only about himself
Still, like his birth bid him to,
He shall have his eyes opened someday
And then,
He shall come to realise
How mad he had been all this time
How childish
How blind
How absolutely selfish
How very evil!
Man is mad,
So it would seem!
©Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Photos from the Internet.
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