Trek of civilisation

The hill is steep,

The climb is rough;

Her brows creased with marks of toil.

She lifts her eyes to the space above

And clambers on, her rags are soiled.

With the blood and sweat of years gone by,

She clambers on and hopes to find,

A clear blue sky beyond the clouds.

She had learnt, from dawn of birth

There exists another life

A path which leads to eternity.

But that road is hard to track,

With every step she has fallen back

Into the destitute land of hate,

Wilderness of despise.

Along the way, she had met

With many a frivolous, petty joy,

Jewels shadowed by the hills

Among its grooves and caves and rocks.

The entice her, slow her pace

Calling to the lust within her soul.

Rushing forth she beholds

Scattered flowers, shining forth.

Alas they wither at her touch, those delicate petals

Of fame, fortune, and of love.

One by one, they all did fall.

She was left with empty hands.

So she walked on in quest,

She still gazed up in hope

That the merciless sky would yield one day,

And the beauty of heaven display.

Time, regardless of all, goes by.

The third great age comes to be.

She still climbs that wretched peak,

Clinging to the cracks of sympathy

That destiny has flung her way.

Probing for the gifts that luck

Had carelessly strewn among the thorns.

Her frame is bent, her joints curled

In pursuit of all she wants;

For she has to learn to take, to snatch,

Never to give, nor spare.

Now let her pause a little while,

Let her sit and ponder

Upon the life that she has led,

This trek of ‘civilization’.

Has she reached her elusive goal?

Is she still far behind?

Did she choose the right way there?

Have all her dreams been dreamt?

Has greed destroyed her sight

Of the crevices up ahead?

She knows that time is running short,

She knows that she may fail.

But hope lives on through mists of doubt,

That plague her tortured mind.

The light is near, though it may be dim,

She lives in the hope of finding Him.

The third great age has come to be.

Her life has been of length.

She has survived a million deaths

And has ten thousands left.

She shines on towards sacred peace

That she has sought so long.

She will attain harmony,

Or perhaps, lose it after all.

But she’ll resume her climb in years to come,

She knows that hope lives on.

As Man moves closer to the moment,

He knows that hope lives on.

Akanksha Kapoor