Wild Eyes

I

Let me tell you a common untold story

of a countryside that went for common glory,

ensuring all are same and homogeneous

with no botheration of means -love or violence.

There was a person who was taller

than his fellow comrades and was utter disgrace

to the ideals of the common good and popular

norms that prevailed in the country side.

He started to write things original

and new,which were against then flowing current

communities formed and rebuked his works fatal

comrades decided,finally,to cut his brain to curb the spirited spirit.

II

The man who had written originals walked

slowly and unsteadily,under the approving gaze of comrades

he didn't smile as he used to and was dazed like a corpse dead,

"Well done comrade", people congratulated,"the evil has gone to blazes."

People who ridiculed him and feared his superiority

welcomed with open arms to their houses and hearts

for he was no longer a danger of the great majority

nor was he a symbol of the million forsaken dreams.

III

The man couldn't hold a pen with his hands

for along with the brain they cut the thumb as precautionary

step to ensure evil never rises its multi-various  hoods 

thro' him or anyone who inclines to creative drudgery

The moon was smiling at the world

filling the sorrowful mundane container with glow

of love and thought that can't be curtailed

sending message to anyone who wants to ride against the flow.

"Brain you may cut,o soldiers of solidarity

yet the creativity in men can never be broken

fingers you may detach from hands that make beauty

yet thought and grace will definitely  awaken"

IV

The man with brain cut and thumbs detached in his solitary night

picked up a brush that's thrown on forlorn road

smiled after a long time at moon so bright,

painted symbol of dreams not forsaken on a broken board.

His wild eyes looked at the infinite sky

nay, into the depths of his mind - residence of almighty.