Plea To God.

Not trying to be modest or self-effacing, just not me, but heres another feeble attempt at poetry. I sincerely believe there has to be a method under the madness, a design to God's actions. otherwise, we're just hanging by a thread.........depressing thought, but, well, what the heck.




Strange isnt't it, that we slog through a life
thats precariously balanced at the edge of a knife

and long with all our hearts for all things shining,
and wimps that we are, at every failure cribbing and whining

that we make attempts at immortality
knowing perfectly well death is the only finality.

Lives spent to achieve glory, undeserved greatness
with no real work, another life wasted, another lived less.

And yet the wise revel in anonymity,
wondering if its them or everybody else who deserves the pity.

Where hard work plays a role conspicuous by absence
rickshaw pullers toil for food, while criminals rise to affluence

Happy families broken apart by natural calamities
Unhappy families forced to live together, the most evil of atrocities.

The powerless end up just and fair at the end of the day
while honesty is the price for power you have to pay

Tell me, God, Are we ever to understand the dices you roll?
coz well, there, thats my plea, i've more than bared my soul.