Sunday Poem By Antariksh Mukherjee

| The Seeds of Wisdom and Sin |

Ages ago, in a time unknown, By your hands, seeds of wisdom were sown, By your wings they were scattered, blown, 'Cross the world yet to be known.

Ages ago, in a time unknown, By our hands some seeds were sown, Of malice, doubt, fear and scorn, By our deeds, left overgrown.

A while back and ever since, With vain agony we'd wince, As these thorns prick and mince.

A barbed crown atop suffering's throne, Flesh and mind, bloody and worn, How could we ever have known.

Known that our sins would lead us here? If death was bartered for redemption, Why is there still suffering and pain? Why is there twice the blood spilt For every soul loved? Who shall deliver reprieve From this unending chaos of questions?

The seeds of wisdom and sin, Seem to root from the same sands in

Which lies the bricks that built Our fragile kingdoms of guilt.

Yet hope lives as beauty sprouts anew.

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