I tell myself to not go cynical

And, try find reasons for smile and cheer

For, Life really has no other purpose

And that, to me is crystal clear.

Accident or otherwise, is all belief

Why are we here, for a century, about,

Destiny, too, is Man’s coinage, perhaps

Belief again, accept or shout.

Too much knowledge can be dangerous

Skills are good and also bad,

There was a time, not long ago

When all we heard made us glad

For, “global” and “glocal” were unheard of

‘Cause, everything, then, was mostly local,

Me and my neighbour, that was all N

othing else in the realm of focal,

And now,

There’s a, heart- breaking, sadness all around

There are tears in many, many, tragic, eyes,

Look around and see for yourself

There is no trace of exaggeration, no lies.

The world “smaller” is how we describe it now

Man’s arrogance unbounded,

“Nothing was ever better than today”

The repeated baloney, all unfounded.

Wars and mayhem are all we see

For, that is all that we are shown,

Can’t blame Cinema nor TV

Reality comes first, mirages soon gone.

Not too late to step back and think

Where are we headed, what lies ahead,

Even though, we all well know, that

In the long -term we’re all dead.

Yes, I know you’ve heard that before

That was no great Keynesian dictate,

And, this mortality , perhaps,

 Is what makes us

To do what you will, grab what you can

ill- gotten , now, a freely- used term,

Well-accepted and well- understood

A little discomfort maybe, no long-term harm.

Back now to the tears in many eyes

To the alarming state of things,

Even the Thrush, in its wisdom

Only the mournful strain, sings.

No one listens now to the other

Camaraderie, a forgotten word,

Let’s listen then to the lingering voice

Of the, melodious, Nightingale bird.

Note: All material in this product is the intellectual property of  Ashok Sawhny and 

The author is always open to proposals and can be contacted via www.ashoksawhny.com