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Modern Man

I am the wing wounded in the race to beat the life

I have forgotten how to fly


I am a bundle of memory 

Recycling its dreams each day 

Even though it falls asleep at nights


I am a garden of hope

Thinking too loudly about dreams 

Which is yet to come

Meanwhile time is leaking like a fist of sand; Un-lived and untouched


I am life like a detached bureaucracy

Always anxious about efficiency

Even if emotions are blowing like a river 

Inside hearts of living organism


I am a modern man

Lost in quest of insatiable name and fame

Like a fiction eclipsing the real blood and flesh


I am a self-centered nature

Away from roots 

Wandering in the system of rank and subordination

So as to escape from inherent freedom


I am a joyless player

Like a machine

Capable to produce and consume 

Without able to listen the music of birds and rivers

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