In the shell of wandered wonder
Did freedom grumble for a caring mother,
To give sons meal on this starved land
With heritage for the unborn to unwind
Wind of war cool our skins
From fiery peace in pieces,
Our skins hope to be no more,
No more a spectator of acidic pour.
We still ramble on whole remains
Deposited in our yester-veins.
See it in our fractured face,
Cracked fate from days into race.
Status silently seating on shards
Fate made dumb with refilled unusualness,
Dreams told us we’re only dreaming
Of gone fortune in rusted beginning.
Inhale we husks from bounty harvest
Efforts,we flick on weary result
Yet,we boast of a nation with able womb
Forgetting it got lost in last night’s bomb.
The morrow I see is monsters-free
Without hoofs kicking the globe’s glee.
The morrow I see waives thorny soles
To trample on last century’s carcasses.
What I see will be in every abode
At the entrance of morrow’s world
Manning their feeble gates to welcome
Coming fortune into joy hoping to come