Asmita Todkar Poet Rhyme

Earth without ART

What is earth without ART?
But what is art without a poet— a society of poets?
All different perspectives, different souls
On the path to find their own home

Forced to be a doctor, an engineer or a businessman
Ink dried from the veins of the hand, quite before the words were laid out to be read
Or maybe forced down, to be blown up to pieces, by a culture of hatred

Never seen the sun to write the next word
Much hurt was caused, before the prose hit the waters
To travel to the lands where it would've been heard
Seen, understood and praised
To be vulnerable
But oh, what a privilege to never be fazed

The morning sound of the birds to the exploding sites of the world
How does one get away with life in such terms?
Pain, process, repeat— for a second and gone
We live in a world that's numb to it's mistakes
"Past is past" but what about past being the present?
Everlasting effects on the affected and termed to be "peasants"
Of the people who only see their own glamour fit

The next soldier, the next man or woman with their child in their hands
Only not a beating pulse, plain fear and anger surged
What of that poet we may have lost?
Does their life not come at a cost? 
Do we blame their god, their religion, their caste? 
Or the colour of skins vastly spread through the globe, that makes us get past
The art we may have lost?
The earth, we may have worked to end in a blast...?

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