Kite dancing in a hurricane

 

The wind reeks of innocence again,

a danger to the wandering hearts of men,

For,

the strength of her embrace

rips them to shreds

like kites forlorn

in a gust of  tempest.

 

Rain, Motherland , Soul !

 

Smell of our soil ! – Credits Google

 

 

 

Rain, the tears of heaven

causing the sweet fumes of

my beautiful motherland to

rise!

& waft

into the consciousness

of my mind

 

 

It carries to me

the subtle taste

of blood of Martyrs

It leaves with me

the after taste of

labourer’s sweat

 

 

but its corrupted !

Its pureness adulterated

by the powers that be

or are to be !

A poisoned metallic gustation

that mirrors the soul of the populace !