I scribble,
The story of my soul’s peregrinations
Through the ponderous grey bright
And the dark gloomy night,
Towards the distant dawn,
Where my hopes lay unborn.

I shudder,
At the gory violence, ripping explosions,
Pools of blood and mutilated corpses,
Filling the alleys of Baghdad and valleys of Kashmir,
The strife-torn streets of Kabul and Karachi
Orphaned children among the debris of Palestine.

I yearn,
To welcome the chariot of dawn
Ushering in a brighter morn,
Laden with hopes for the forlorn,
Where man will be judged for his worth,
And not for his ill begotten wealth.

I dream,
Of a world without barriers,
Where cast, color and creed do not divide hearts.
But the all encompassing milk of human kindness,
Flows and fuses hearts and minds,
Across continents far and wide.