Did you hear that stomach rumble of hunger…
The rumble growing to a thunder…..
Thunder that drowns every other sound
Listen…..pay head to it.
What stamped as downtrodden and lowly being
May be soon slithering up the throne
To spew the venom
The sounds of churning…..
Halahal ready to be brewed .
And no Shiva in sight to drink it.
The parched throats have waited for long
Quench them before they may seek the blood
Minds need to be chiseled
Achievers may be carved out.
Or they may develop the edges
Sharp to inflict the wounds.
Arise, and act to avert the storm that comes
Damn it path with the boulders of some action
(Action, a rare commodity these days)
Mitigate it with tremendous desire to serve.
For the hand that rules should be the hand that feeds.