Turn the Page, Turn the Life | A Writer’s Battle for Survival | Help Her Win
Turn the Page, Turn the Life | A Writer’s Battle for Survival | Help Her Win

Ishan Agarwal



Ishan Agarwal




4 mins


An age-old fire grows stronger,

Its home is the heart of man.

It is a burning hunger,

That grows, by its plan!

Day by day, the flame grows brighter;

A burning desire: to achieve.

We, forever are reaching higher,

That we can be better; always we believe!

Why else did we rise from the embers?

The reason: for Prometheus's agony.

Cause for Herculean endeavors,

A forever improving ability!

From the crudest of dwellings,

Now, skyscrapers we build,

From primitive times, to progress so telling,

We surely have become more skilled.

At the altar of progress,

Have we laid more than mere metal and stone?

It is the ability to answer a question,

Whispered by the heart, alone!

For, if life be, but a vehicle of progress,

If that is the meaning behind our daily bread;

Then what you think of progress-I say regress,

So, I'd like to ask instead:

Not whether progress has been one-sided-

We know it has been ignoring the soul.

What progress, which torments our brothers?

But the question is, has it left us whole?

For, today, where has man the time,

To live as a man should live!

The world just rushes along,

We cannot loose, and cannot give!

For, progressed, we have; futile to deny it,

Yet does anyone know the cost?

In this age of pollution,

More than just free air, we have lost!

The best things in life, what are they?

And really what do they mean?

Do they still abide in a world so grey?

In a world of automation, where men cannot dream!

The best is love, which is so precious,

That denied, a man may live, but not as man,

For in a cynically, faithless world,

Bereft of belief, we'd all be pretentious!

Our's has been grinding progress,

Life after life of painful toil,

Yielding only fruits that oppress!

Material comfort, jealousy, and hatred,

That only our hearts do spoil!

We have won the means of leisure,

Extended lives, but their meaning taken away.

Progress has gifted us the means of pleasure,

But the search for happiness still holds sway!

A world wherein the pursuit of happiness,

Are running, you, me and the whole creed!

And seeing this' blind running', makes me confess,

We know not what we need!

If only we could remember,

Society is an image of every soul.

And the things that every member,

Raises on a pedestal, reveals man's goals.

The fact is we have lost our innocence,

Children no longer children are,

We live on, rather carry on wearily,

No time to walk in the woods, or gaze at a star!

Friendship, they say, is made up of a million little things,

I add to say, so is life!

If only we could carefully choose, to give our dream wings,

I would say, sure, choose to end exploitation; end strife!

Begin the process, though it is never-ending,

To redeem, yourself, and restore,

Love is what makes life worth living,

This again I must implore.

I speak to you as my brothers,

Let's restore the brotherhood of humanity.

Freedom, tolerance, and love: not just big words for others.

Let's discover the meaning behind their philosophy.

And make a little time and space,

Amongst; the humdrum going –on,

That a little seed of goodness,

May take root, grow, and lift the soul with grace!

Yes! The freedom to live at one's pace,

That allows one to learn and grow;

So life may be more than a mad race,

And a man may live, and slowly learn to know.

The beauty around him, he may appreciate,

And to its storehouse, he may add and create,

So many resources, God has given, not man-made;

That supports one's soul in life's tempest, tossed.

Its evil, which steals the most precious gift,

Our soul; that is our identity!

Inner conflict has taken away,

Our conscience; our essential humanity!

For the best thing in life is beyond,

What materialism can describe or comprehend,

It is given only to him, who can understand,

The purpose is to live life lovingly, and bond!

Ours has now become a grey world,

The colors of exuberance are lost.

The banner of much-wanted progress unfurled,

Now we are forced to count the cost!

Yet, I still hope, that a place remains;

A place for dreamers to still dream on,

That in this blind greed for only gains,

Of humanity, some vestiges remain, to depend upon.

That somewhere there is, in fellowship a hand,

And a tear, somewhere in pity shed,

And most importantly, a heart still true,

Full of love, so humanity may again be lead!

Rate this content
Log in

More english poem from Ishan Agarwal

Similar english poem from Abstract