Beneath the swaying trees
Where rivers flow silently,
a tale unfolds, as old as the sun.
In God's own country,
where hearts are kind- a partial truth
A mystery lingers in the collective mind.
Of the plethora of wealth that flows in
from lands afar middle east and west.
Yet, some say, the bowl is still empty
With a need for pleading on the loose!!
who are responsible?
With nothing Right and Left to ruins
sightless of lotus bloom
Is it the rulers, with vision unclear
Or silent voices, we struggle to hear?
Where are the famed heaps of wealth?
Of the land, now with begging bowl
it pains on labels, harsh and unkind.
On this land of beauty and endless charm !!
Let the ample fields where spices grow
Make the state, grow and glow
Weaving a story of hope, new and bold
where the future can unfold…
to rise above and find its calm.
for resilience to shine on every face !!