In realms where power’s shadow deeply lies,
Justice falters, bound by cold, harsh ties.
Human worth, mere dust in tempest’s sweep,
Is cast aside, where tyrants’ promises sleep.
The throne’s ascent is built on silent cries,
While truth, in chains, beneath the surface lies.
Yet, whispers of the heart will never still,
For dust, though scattered, gathers by sheer will.
And from this dust, a storm of change will rise,
To tear the veil from power’s blinding guise.
Justice falters, bound by cold, harsh ties.
Human worth, mere dust in tempest’s sweep,
Is cast aside, where tyrants’ promises sleep.
The throne’s ascent is built on silent cries,
While truth, in chains, beneath the surface lies.
Yet, whispers of the heart will never still,
For dust, though scattered, gathers by sheer will.
And from this dust, a storm of change will rise,
To tear the veil from power’s blinding guise.
***
Madras Courier originally ran as a broadsheet with a poetry section. It was a time when readers felt comfortable sharing glimpses of their lives through verse. If you have a poem you’d like to submit, do email us at [email protected].
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