To make the angels weep for not known maturity,
Nourishing plenty of food for follies and foibles through partiality,
Thy prophetic vision, doubted to
reduce into ashes Humanity.
Blue, green, red, distract mob dialects pestilence,
O thou, stop pretending own almighty’s pale dark image will,
Try to spread 'WHITE' more into remaining existence,
Left, thou grist that comes to thou mill.
O well-knit Destructor, stop making monsters of the deep are made each zone,
Beneath cheerish boundless, bloodless, joyous Humanism tone.
-Monica Sagar Nagdeote
(English Literature)
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