More graves, dug out, than cradles, bought
Baptized by, tears, of the, sinking sun
What grows, not, learns to, die and rot
In the, tomb of, ethnic oblivion!

More dolls, there are, than kids, to play
Holograms are, new mates, of virgins
In this, wasteland of, ethnic melee
Japan’s dream, lives in, its blessed coffins!

They won, by far, economic war
Yet lost, endeavor, of existence
Demographic, fault-line, left a scar
In its element, of, ethnic essence!

Where throve aplomb, lay dead, its tomb
An ethos, sinks in, time’s quicksand
What’s mourns, in, inertia’s womb
An Ode, To A, Dying Land!

© 2022 Vikas Chandra