Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Conscience

Strange are the ways of the world
One can rarely, of things, get hold
On the wrong things we are sold
To come out and give is only for the bold
Consciences in a slumber
Those awake, few in number


Survival of the fittest said Darwin
Indeed, for us, survival over sin
Consciences in a slumber
Those awake, few in number


Short-term wins grip them all
Long-term losses make them fall
Consciences in a slumber
Those awake, few in number


The faith in friendships
The pain when it trips
Making use of people to gain
Leaving them in pain
Consciences in a slumber
Those awake, few in number


On the last journey ever
What one takes along is clear
Consciences in a slumber
Those awake, few in number

- Nimmy (Dedicated to those awake, few in number)

1 comment:

Sarita Shekhar said...

Hey, your poem embodies both spirit and song in rhyme, both completeness and periphery in substance - good subject and very inspiring!