Standing its ground

The world
many skies
rich, poor;
many grounds
sliced into pieces,
colours of rainbow
horrific melange
of dark shades,
power to grab
the lion’s share,
the pie of the red
innocuous fruit
made sinful selling
packs of irrelevant

Grim heaven,
sunless, moonless,
a stone on the
shoulders of
the cursed survivors,
glorified soldiers;
bright firmament,
shining stars,
an umbrella on
the blessed dwellers.

The residents of
the world,
divided, dispersed
caste, creed, colours, race
spitting scarlet words,
splitting the skies and
the grounds in
holes and parts;

The world, way too
unseparated in its
orbit to fly off
to a distant time
and space.
It needs one ground,
one sky to stand
in its moving place.

© supratik 2023
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