Thursday, 3 September 2015

“Rat Race”

What a race?
Sprinting with avidity,
Absurdly Palpitating,
In blind chase of vanity.

All eyes are gazed,
With minds so dazed,
Attention all fixated,
To this futile obsession. 

Wherefore wind and pant?
Could someone quickly probe?
Is anything the trouble,
Which makes you a psychopath?

“I must get this piece!!!”
“Though it jeopardises my peace”
“My time is a foot”
“Though I shoot everyone in the foot”

Don’t you see the path hazy?
“Nope! You think me rather lazy?”
Don’t you appreciate the huddles?
“Nope, I rather think of the goodies” 

They have no schema nor vision
To make the institution  greater,
Or think of the challenges,
To make room for a mission.

“I look forward to glory!”
Each of them asseverates.
Though it’s a source of worry
how gory their past reverberates.

Neither thinks to the future,
The bureau deserves to charter.
Nor does yesterday matter,
To appraise how we squatter. 

They scamper like goats,
Everything God they forgot,
They forgot that all deeds
Shall be accounted for indeed.