The Eye

Thirsty,
it awaits the moisture,
Barren,
have turned all the pastures.

Fodder,
still eludes the cattle,
Discolored,
are the hesitant petals.

Incessantly,
blow the infuriating dunes,
Ominously,
echo the disastrous tunes.

Empty,
sound the earthen pots,
Counting,
the drops are the parched throats.

Impoverished,
are the souls to be seen,
Parched,
lie the fields that were green.

Adored,
it had, the prayers those were spoken,
Hopes,
of the clouds that were woven.

Occasionally,
oozes out the hopeless cry,
Tunes,
of the death now loom high.
As,
scenes from the drought enter the eye.

Man-Made

The hue and cry of life and death, what after death and those repetitive questions make me confused. But what if I see something, man-made, hopeful. The human imagination is strong enough that it can think anything and present it to the rest of the world. Seeing it lets us forget everything that has confused mankind since its inception. The war between the human imagination and unanswered questions will never be over.All I thought after seeing an animation movie.........