HERD OF MEN

We snails, the herd of men,
Drool at the interest of mother soil.
Chew the buds of dreams
That intend to serve our sons.

We slither to the meaningless edges,
In the case of apathy of selfish eyes .
Of dull and grainless head ,
Soil at mercy to hell human caves.

We are the fellows of empty ponds,
Dim the effects of ignoring world .
Blind our visions inside our hides ,
Tie the hands of the summer sun's pride.

We dig holes to shelf our motives ,
But missed our self in the long sleep .
Now summer is not gone but tricky ,
With the infective eyes of eternity.

Paramananda Mahanta