Glory to the stubbornly intelligent muse, <br />Frozen and sculptured as the pole less nose, <br />Spread over the sturdy barren and forest bosoms, <br />Stranded around in every selfish nation, <br />Chill as the dry ice in a season, <br />Warm as the hot chicks for a reason, <br />Roller-skate with no brakes and pistons, <br />Hide that peeping Tom's one eyed vision, <br />Have no papers to cross the borders, <br />Not proved anyone how to shoulder, <br />A few days journey and a few nights' board, <br />Free as the migrant birds, not as the brutes, <br />Whose heads are counted to get shocked, <br />During census, when get hot and broken, <br />Hail stones are showered as the bullets, <br />Thousands of innocents are stoned to death, <br />Not for their sins, but for the thawing of our thoughts.<br /><br />veeraiyah subbulakshmi<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-clouded-hearts/
