****pic from net!
I stormed along annihilating all, without the warnings of ‘change’ to come by
The empathy for common man conquered my love, calming my nerves by and by
The unbriddled wind, moved my tempo; making music in the sky
The tempest of the ‘RED’ ontology thus, became my song as I whistled by
Friends turned foe on the sly, as I turned back with Time and I strived
The sharkled wind swooped and rose, as the ‘wind of change’ was on high
With the remains of the people, ‘Red’ collapsed; unable to travel far and wide
Reduced to a speck in a niche, it was unable to withstand the ‘avalanche’ and sighed
Now I sit in a bend, no avarice; sometimes happy and sometimes sad
The gentle me turn the other way, for resynthesis of mind side by side
With intoxicated mind I try to fathom the ‘change’ brought by ‘green’ progenies
Time to nest away to another shore; and watch the unbridled festivity or orgies
*** This was written on the day, Trinamool came to power in West Bengal. People divided by colonial intrigue and religious schisms, and ravaged by successive famines and the vagaries of Partition, are today continuing to seek both stability and growth to break the jinx imposed upon them by history…This was posted in another site a year back.