Politics

Rome they say, was burning and its monarch was playing fiddle... The neo Neros, today, pour fuel on the fire-flames... Caste, color, creed, religion, sect, Each thing is bundled up as fine fuel With our dreams, all these burn into ashes. They give us loud calls to quench the fire. Dousing the flame, they say, is our task. Fire might swamp our little huts. We should just fight the fire. Isn't this our sole task? Neros will not stop. We must lose all. Homelessly We must Roam