O God, your logic is no longer man’s logic.
You say something and man says something else.
When you say every man’s blood is red,
Man says, ‘And yet, the body is not the same.’
He finds reasons to justify his thinking,
Where fair skin is fairer than dark skin,
Where black is more beautiful than white
And royal blood is better than common blood
And where status is governed by money.
When you find beauty in the paddy fields of Bihar,
The mighty Brahmaputra in Assam,
The glittering dewdrops on grass,
Poets who have revolutionized
The architecture of poetry,
Great mathematicians like Archmedes,
Copernicius, Socrates who were philosophers
Par excellence and shook man’s thinking,
Man finds beauty in glittering gold,
The fashionable shoes and clothes,
The jingling coins, the bundles of notes,
Big-breated women with neither substance
Nor a touch of spirituality,
Laughing in a morally disorganized civilization.
O God, lead us to that way, that path,
Where men and women blossom like flowers,
Where the garden is the same
Though the colors of the flowers are different,
Where we are provided by an impetus
To become beautifully whole ourselves,
Where vulnerability and fragility
Are filtered to release the real man’s identity,
Where life is not threatened
For speaking the mind,
Where all men are brothers
And where your logic is man’s logic.