Strange

Right in the middle of the troubled lands, 
the intelligent brains have won many accolades,
they have conquered the outer space, yet the
thinking hearts are unable to win their minds;
with reason, none could find a win-win way
to concur, to discover a system robust and strong
not to kill and fight. Strange that both are right,
yet both, equally wrong. 

In the countries recharged with animosity,
bitterness, and disaster, catapulted with
mindless weapons, devious arms endorsing 
ceaseless killing, spilling of blood, a poet,
like a stranger, stretches its arms and writes
about the resurgence of friendship in the
peace-loving minds of the neighbors. 

The reality is dark, things are falling apart
countries, as it were, are concentrating
on how to harm, how to hurt each other;
making the sellers of weapons richer, year
after year, like Kalidasa, who was seen
cutting the branch of the tree on which
he was sitting, they both are severing
their own developments, their own growths,
they’re sabotaging their own economies; 
strange that they'll continue to be sincere enemies,  
no one, no citizen tells the leaders to focus
on growth, not to indulge in senseless fights,
that killing is not winning, it is never right.

But the poet helplessly ignores all of this!
Perpetually in the winsome world,
permanently in bliss, paints a picture
of prosperity, opulence, and happiness;
the non-judgmental eyes see more
of understanding, of camaraderie,
like intoxicating, deep-rooted folklore,
the yearning ears hear the appeal from
the mosques from the breaking dawn
to the parting dusk, they listen to the
chants from the temples; therefore,
the poet sits on a corner scribbling
on a piece of paper, perhaps like Sartre 
writing his diary during his mobilization,
or perhaps like a child composing a
world of its own, bringing back all the
fond memories, the determined writer
establishes again the paradise on earth
that is not anymore occupied by intruders, 
but bustling with the long-lost brothers and sisters.

Why is this simple thing a challenge,
the poet ponders, finds it strange!