When destinies are sold at markets stalls
come harangue me about loss and changing fortunes

If a mother can whisper and awaken a limp dead child
come and regale me tales of the pain of a broken heart

When the crippled beggars on the dusty tracks in Bombay
Shows that invitation to a full lunch and dinner at the Savoy
come tell me about your suffering because you're unemployed
can only afford bread and butter for breakfast and chips for lunch

If M. Schumacher with millions now in lifeless comatose can leap up
And lunge for his wife ravishing her in fervent passion and hot lust
Do come and tell how you're depressed because you have no woman

The sound you may hear through walls
Is grateful laughter for the gift of another day alife with full senses

The pain you think you see in the eyes
Is the quiet reflection of gratitude that while you can see all colours
There're thousands blinded who think they can see

What you call loneliness and alone
Is The Higher Power assigning you time to stand aside and meet
The Soul within, to meet yourself in the realm of the true self

In the silence of the quiet there is no pain sorrow or misery
Celestial choirs in pristine forms heralds Glory Glory Hallelujah
He who maketh, giveth and taketh away

Destinies are not sold at Market stalls