… Before The Beginning Of ‘Crude’ Days


There was, a pearl, in each oyster
A dream, of hope, in every heart
Where faith, flourished, without, any fear
A caravan, of sand, world’s apart!

When, desert’s soul, baptized by sun
Filled sugar, in, Arab ethos
Labors of love, of a, ‘lost nation’
Kept it, afloat in, world’s pathos!

When, copper mines, spilled out, black gold
Dollar$, morphed mirage, to an, oasis of glut
New present, aged, yesterday, so old
Man trampled, that time, with a, scornful strut!

Still, when the, radio plays, those songs
With the, purest soul, no change, decays
A lost ethos, knows, where it, belongs
Before, The Beginning, Of, ‘Crude’ Days!

© 2022 Vikas Chandra

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