Poor Man's Plight

Can a billion dreams be ever betrayed? We a nation of billion men, yet failing mysteriously to keep our date with destiny. At this moment I don’t have an answer to that question. I tried but failed to explore all the facets of this question. The four lines that ensue are my reflection on the poor man’s plight. Poor that constitutes the majority of this nation of billion. The question that really haunts me now is, whose dreams am I really talking of....?

Poor on the street, dreams no glory but bread
For without it he would be dead
And he is not wrong in his quest
The dawn of realism just quells the rest

A reflection on life

This post fails to qualify as poetry...It is however the way it flowed out and given the thought it endows I find it appropriate to leave it the way it is...

What we celebrate as humanity
Is nothing but a stream of consciousness
Flowing down from generation to generation
Transcending through billions of minds
Evolving as it flows along

Purpose of life then is to experience life
Transience of our mind through the eternal stream of time
Bringing us to certain reflections
expressions life incomplete by itself
Yet invaluable as no two streams follow the same path

It does not matter what you experience
Pain or pleasure
Pristine paradise or a pragmatic parody
Divine order or an entropic chaos
It does not matter...

What matters simply
Is how your consciousness mould
The eternal stream of space and time
Flowing through you every moment

Be conscious of this journey called life
Impending experience ensuing thoughts and resulting memories
And let, what is worthy of it
flow on to what we call as the 'Next generation'