It is a holy mission to this holy soil <br />That unfortunately lies ripped and spoilt <br />Of vicious designs and their divisive orders. <br /> <br />All the frames that my eyes conjure <br />Happen to cover a rare picture <br />Of the sublime and ITS dimensions. <br /> <br />It is lofty to be of some rare orders <br />Which are dictated by flimsy terms <br />Of the fleeting and its transience. <br /> <br />The ones who beg by the street, and the other <br />On the ivory towers are of the same order. <br />All are missions of unique explorations. <br /> <br />Some see the purpose; some feign to be ignorant; <br />There are a few who make hardly anything out. <br />Still there is something common; the essence. <br /> <br />A mission back to the Union looks uneven to us: <br />What’s that which takes us this long to recognize <br />“Even spokes make the wheel perfect and smooth? ” <br /> <br />Some die, some breathe their last; <br />Some go behind the veil of time; <br />some turn into corpses and carcasses. <br /> <br />The mission is still on in the same vein. <br />Much before time and its relentless refrains <br />The mission to this Earth has been the same. <br /> <br />“Even spokes make the wheel perfect and smooth.” <br />Our missions are impossibles, if not unsuccessful. <br />for, their wheels are made of uneven spokes. <br /> <br />Jayaprakash Jayaprakash Panicker.<br /><br />A. Jayaprakash Jayaprakash Panicker<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-mission-to-this-earth/
