My Country

There isn't much to my Land
Other than hindi and
women putting on bindis.
Well except maybe that our civilization
is over some 1000 and greater years old.
Its population is diverse
as its geography.
Its culture is richer
than its business class.
Which are still lesser
than its past.
There isn't much to my Land,
other than all stages of history.
Even with all the science,
some parts of it are still a mystery.
It is an enigma, this frigid sub tropic.
Split it in the middle and brothers remain strangers of above and below.
Or even at the sides, mentioned as a strange connect.
People of a group having one thing  common in their select.


This area where the cradle of humanity sadly remains
as a child young but misguided.
Ready to be buried
as aged, idealed but tired.
As someone who is stuck betwixt and between
two polarizing teams.
Which scream of glory to their
and only their cause.
Or the other who cry at all the Lost cause.
There is something strange in my country
that everyone is alienated
but still cries more home
than any other of the dirt and leaf
anywhere around.


There is still some hope
for people dream.
There is struggle
for everyone has something
to make it worth it.
My country is strange,
My country is different.
So you'd probably understand if I tell you,
There isn't much to my Land
that you'd probably understand.
There is just so much this land holds,
love, hope, dreams and happiness
not just sorrow and loss.
It's like most others
this breath of warmth,
this wave of chill.
It's my home, my world.
I can roam everywhere see the wonders
to gape with awe and be amazed,
but it's only here near my horizon and
between the poles,
that finally my heart, will feel both frozen and burned.