The Clash Of The Titans
Somewhere from the deep dark and mazy cave
The painful cry of a wretch is incessantly heard
The booming,surging noise in the changing wave
That reaches everywhere in whirls and is stirred;
The frigid peace crusts the fazed soul, so sore ;
And in chaotic disorder,despite its awning decor
The unborn child of civilisation is in utter threat-
Squeezed between birth and growth ,in intense
Awe, and uncertain as the wicked anger is all set
To destroy, devour and leave in smoke dense ;
All the sweet and neat things for love and gain
Made, have but come to be treated with disdain
Skyscrapers and huge domes, like citadels tall,
And forts, palaces or mansions matchless ever,
Tracts for sport and fun and the communion hall
Are but pulled down to dust with mocking power
Built with nobility and lofty embellishment dear
Yet short of grace, magnanimity and soul clear
Like a naive praying child,the mind with a frown
Asks at large , and repeats often the quest:
Why build at all when you intend to bring down
To evince that things exist only at Ego's behest!
The world so rich and wonderful doth only need
Love, harmony and peace for the order to breed
All that the crust and its inmost offers do yield
Are the sole claims of the sapiens very strange,
Who now know that from the sword and shield
To the magical burning weapons of any range,
Is much easier than making a kid's game toy
To truly send chill down the backbone to annoy
The never stopping spheres will glance again
Similar chops, splinters and the countless kill
With the ceaseless flow of the liquid in red stain;
Will the infant within grow up to it's nativity in full
And find the fruitful load of culture for it to carry
On to posterity the divine gift of honey and cherry?
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