The Land of dream

Early Tuesday morning when the night
Glides into a new beginning somewhat reluctantly
And no police sirens have been cutting the night
Till before and after sleep.
I will like to go to India. the vivaciousness of
The humanity intrigues me, the struggle to makes a living
Warms my heart, the poverty is holy
The cattle in the streets holier than the statue
Of the man who gave his life for freedom which so easily
Can be lost again when one religion is preferred
From another, they make one set of people arrogant
The other set hateful.
I will be in India tomorrow.