Through the untamed eyes of me,
Staring in the festivity.
Faroff something glows slight,
to talk to me comes a fading light.
In old shakles and plight,
apparently it can't shine bright.
With the passive casuality of an urbanite
I ask, "Oh poor light!
what is wrong with your hue?
Trust me and be true"
With wet, red eyes as deep as sea,
This is what it said to me:
"Oh my brother urbanite,
All these years i've fought with all my might.
But now I don't feel my worth is here
when all of us are naked and bare.
My brothers have forgotten me
and lost the true meaning of festivity.
While you just see how much you gain
the poor home I am in, goes for days without even a single grain,
but apparently noone sees their pain
as values have been long slain.
While your lights just go brighter over years,
you never give a thought to your poorer peers.
the life of whom is getting harder and harder
with zest for living being darker and darker.
I don't want you to stop living
but like you to discover the joy of giving.
This is all I ask of you,
Whenever you do
get the glimp of a light,
just remember in your hind sight.
There's someone in the darker alleys
Desperately struggling for two square meals."
With this the it started its journey back
fading slowly without a slack.
As I bent down to pray
the fading light had gone away.