How do I find you our nature’s song
In the din that man has created?
Chirrups are clouded by whirring fans,
Muffled by burring engines.
Rustling leaves have a fever today,
Sea is mourning a demise,
Rivers no longer gush
Without fishes to rush to a life.
Loud hoardings do more than a show;
They are hooting ads for man’s leisure.
Deafening noise sells for music today,
Vehicles blare for no reason.
Billboard babels talk more than they sing;
They have a deathly hum for greed
Fueled by gasps and wheezes,
Turning people into monsters.
Loud thumps of stomping
Trample the fallen,
As if ruling the weak were a birth-right.
Now people shout to make a point,
And confuse the true readers.
Where are the leaders
Who spoke the truth?
Now they can buy their freedom
Without lifting a finger,
Bullets are louder
Than all their voices,
While love lasts only a moment.
If you are a good listener,
You might come across
Moans of silence at short intervals,
When men are supposed to talk,
You might hear muffled voices
Of malice that hushes you on being loud,
And mocks you for having those elephant ears.
You might be tempted to go for headphones
To take you to a different world,
But then there are none
Which don’t speak of rasp,
And they are not forever.
How do I find you music, poor child?
It is still lost in my time.