Whom do you call your own?

Blood, is it your own?

Religion, is it your own?

Castes, is it your own?

Skin colour, is it your own?

The hair colour, is it your own?

Whom can you call your own?

Those you love?

Those who teach you?

Those who betray you?

Those who hate you?

Those who love you?

What do we grow to become?

A profession?

A human?

A lover?

A philosopher?

A healer?

The world runs to become good.

The bad hides behind the good.

The bad survives only if stamped good.

Almost all times, bad leads to good and

Good leads to bad.

If good is what lives?

Then where is bad?

Bad survives in the turns, in the corners

in the shades, in the schemings and plannings.

If bad survives, it has to wear the gown of good.

If good survives, everyone survives, all survives all.

Whom do you love then?

Love whom we want to love.

Love is like lovely love.

Love is like the first rain.

Love is like the swinging train.

Love the one, you love to love.

Love only the one you wish to serve.

Light must flow through your nerve.

Well, love you deserve,

only to live to love.


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