Drops Of Mercy Poem by Subir Ningthouja

The rivulets run dry
The perennial spring is plugged
By the ever coming
The ever shifting
Dust and Dirt

Yonder in the land
Of the blind
The one eyed man
Atop the golden hill
Commands with his silver shaft

The blind man
Wandering recklessly of thirst
Stumbling touches
The spring's dropp of mercy
Drops that trickle down his parched gullet

Will he lead
Those lost and parched
Those lost and parched
Fellow blind
To the perennial drops