The Two Flowers on The Same Stalk

We are the two flowers on the same stalk, Hindu and Muslim,

Muslims are feast to her eyes, and Hindus are her life beam.

The moon, and the sun, in the sky,

Seems to fly,

Same is the blood flowing in us, same is the relational glim.

We breathe in the same air,

Same is the water, that, we drink,

Same is the fruits and vegetables, grown in the same motherland, that we can think.

When the people die,

Some are taken to graveyards, while some are taken to the cemetery and made to lie.

We call our mother in the same language,

Also sing songs in the same gleam.

But when we forget that that we are related like brothers,

We make violence among us and start fighting like the others.

But when we know that we are related like brothers,

We cry at our own folly,

And then we apologize for this bully.

The Earth might smile that day,

Seeing her sons doing their works together, in peace, someday.