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TABULA RASA


The tabula rasa,
The black chalk…
One step at a time-
One stroke by man,
One by woman,
One by religion,
One by fanaticism,
One by politics,
One more by artists,
None by art…

What is it now?
An ugly, black slate of a mind
Bereft of honour of any kind,
Treading a narrow path
Towards self-justification,
Unfettered greed and passion
And cosmopolitan fashion
And destructive contemplation…

A closure of a world-
Where body rules the mind,
Mind judges clothes,
Clothes judge people,
Money judges the clothes;
Where judgement is casually sold
And people have grown cold…
A vicious cycle…

A child is just born-
Born to the world ,
Born to the demon
And the she-demon
Living in a high-rise
With dark light sweeping the floor
While the sun stops short at the door…
Another tabula rasa,
Another waste of a slate,
At the altar of the human state.
The artists of life are waiting
The black chalks they are shaking
At the face of the child
Who is wet to go wild
With the darkness that he’s to be…

Suddenly the child looks at the door
Smiles innocently and winks…
The sun breaks right in
And purges the room
With a radiance unknown to this world…
But that’s just one room
And one child and one sun…

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