Library
Ink Stained Pages
Ink Stained Pages
1 min
245
Think about the page
Which is stained with ink
It appears as if the words are in a cage
In the winter pink.
Our life is a blank book
With pages of various kinds.
We try to inside it look,
But one is never satisfied with what one finds.
We start to write on the page one
Beautiful stories we spun,
Right from our birth
But slowly the good thoughts seem to be in dearth.
Gradually the ink of greed, lust, anger and jealousy
Made all of us over busy.
It caged our compassion and generosity
And filled our souls with devil curiosity.
Today, I have a question to ask
As for me it’s a mammoth task.
Do love and sympathy really exist?
Or we all have turned into an absolutist?
