EMOTIONAL QUOTIENT BRINGS GRACE AND DISGRACE, BOTH!
I wonder, what is the point of having discussions
When there is no positive repercussions
How will you mollify people
Offering flowers being trodden by their arrogant ripple
They are frantically driven with deaf ears and blinded eye
Is there any point to make any vie
Even they are not being moved when people miserably die
Not caring how long they too survive with what aspiration to cry?
Human's life too is ephemeral
Still we crave to have bliss which we consider as eternal
Only thing we observe as phenomenal
How past propound on us to force sing a song with continuity in incremental
Which only enveloped our milieu in vociferous
Our vision become blurred with an instant hysteria to emerge in chorus
Hardly we can visualize the future, devoid of past in superiority
Present appears as simply a dot, where past only engulf us exponentially
Past guides with a commanding tone
Where there is always a dearth to atone!
We always tend to fight against nature
In our reflections nature appears with beauty to rapture
Hardly we can realize
We mortals are only responsible to show our tyranny only to reduce our size!
Our gesture too guided by our brain with its reflecting style
It foments us to make attributes with uniform design
Just to promote a systematic way of align
Yet there is always an adverse trait in adherence
Still our endeavors always make a huge difference
Where hostility being turned into amiability by our emphatic presence
Yet we unreasonably triggered to envy our own entity
Our fancy unknowingly beckon our own jeopardy
Which only kindle on us to disrupt nature's intriguing tune with malevolence
Being captivated by nature's own crafted design
We human are forced to wage war against her only to taste her the essence of malign
Forgetting that nature is the greatest teacher who alone teaches us not to be in vain
Our life is just a hyphen only to accelerate a cycle of change in prolonged process to reign!
A process of continuity always prevalent in Earth's floor with grandeur
where roses, an insignia of love, or tears, a symbol of pain emerges in galore
Still we failed to make love and amity
The only form to emerge as champion with conformity
We only crazy to resort to myriad nefarious traits
Just to garner mundane wealth, profits and prosperity in haste
Not bothering humanity is needed to proliferate with grace
What a menace we alone posing to mankind
We are almost reaching to the verge of extinction out of our false pride
Are not we construing our own epitaph?
Who will virtually pay tribute to our own cenotaph?