The Independence Poem by Vedanth Bhatnagar

Choice, as is but ours, is to lose,
They who with burdens are fraught, live free,
For their lives are in ingnorance, with no purpose,
They who in service are selfless, prevail in glee;

The choice was not but ours to make,
The hours of our time pass by in vain,
We in our idle folly, deem sanctity vague,
And within this, is our true independence slain.

Independence is service without the thought,
Of self, to That which once belonged,
And belonged by;
That which sleeps in us in its death,
is that which which shall never die;

Belong to the Service, my friend!
The Independence is not ours, nor the choice,
In the sacred service to That, my friend,
In your time, rejoice and rejoice.