Your flowing hairs
flowing thick dark beard
your face a white lotus
your starched, ironed, fresh,
white-kurta and pyjama
ever flashing cheery looks
dazzle the worshippers.
Your rhythmic movements
make they dance to your rhythm
you're Great, divine, ethereal
words stay mute on the lips
of each believer.
Peripatetic you Divine
fly across Europe, America
Switzerland
Ashrams set up, followers mount
But, Hey Divine
why your loving, compassionate
generous heart
reaches not the Sub Saharan Africa
with soothing balm.
Can't you see
emaciated, anaemic, diseased moving skeletons
with fire in ducts
bellies, burning furnaces
food packs in the forms of Gods,
air-lifted
air-dropped
as if from heaven
followed by mad, frenzy
clashes of madness
to snatch them
and the blood being spilt
among the maddened lot?.
Hey Divine
Thee breeze to them
reach them
embrace them
with no stigma attached
do something for them
and wipe out the stains
of sins etched on the walls of your
conscience.
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