Rebirth of a Rebel

The rebel and his army

He looked down onto the wet earth,
The  ashes  still  warm on  the  pyre,
A  glance  with neglect   and  dearth
At his rebel ideas  razing in the  fire.

As   numbness   bloated  the   hollow  fog
And vapours condensed on glasses moist,
He’s  proud   for  that   mighty   prologue
And  of the fearless  opinions  he  voiced.

- Each one of us has two lives – one where we live and the other where our ideas live. Most of us are not passionate enough to contribute significantly to the second part. The Rebel lives on, dormant in each one of us, without ever realizing its power to put forth new ideas and inspiration for the next generation.

- This poem is a toast to all those Bloggers and Activists who are voicing their opinions and trying to educate the masses.

He looked down onto the wet earth,

The  ashes  still  warm  on  the  pyre,

A  glance  with neglect   and  dearth

At his rebel ideas  razing in the  fire.

As   numbness  bloated  the   hollow  fog

And vapours condensed on glasses moist,

He’s   proud   for  that   mighty   prologue

And  of the fearless  opinions  he  voiced.

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