Page 58 - Demo

TheBloodofaRuinedCanvas-Shreeya. M 10 BMen and women, human beings,do come from a contentious race.As men and women, though erudite,do lack a virtue bestowed upon all othersby The Source of all creation and fall%u2014one by the name of prudence.As men do proclaim the world as theirs,a canvas left blank to paint.Yet, in the wake of men,Why do I see no ink? No paint?As all I see on our beautiful Earth,are gashes and slashes left by a mad artist%u2019s rage.An artist driven by greed, anger and yen.Now, the canvas lies, torn and distraught;unable to stitch itself together,as it bleeds and bleeds the blood of treasure and fortunethat remain silent, spurned and disfiguredby the wrath of innumerable artists deranged.Nature herself, and her precious opus,being the ones tainted.Being shed from their mother%u2019s affectionate womb,are thousands of her creations,bleeding, leaking out of her.Drained and emptied by their own kin,as animals are killed by humans.A result of abundant apathy,hate, gluttony and lack of faith, in classic style of Judasdoes the sapien race eraseevery last living member of their own creed.Mortals, thus, do impair their own self;ergo proving their vapid nature.In the razing of their world, as they dodrain their own sustenance.In their haze of an artist insane, they dosquander their own great wealth and wisdom.As in their rage, they do lose their ability to fathomthe mysteries of their kin.As in their avarice, they do losea treasure as inordinate, as their oblivion.%u0909%u0926%u093e%u0938%u092c%u093e%u0926%u0932AdityaPisipati-10B%u0906%u0915%u093e%u0936%u092e%u0947%u0902%u0906%u090f%u092c%u093e%u0926%u0932%u0914%u0930%u0935%u0947 %u090f%u092c %u0924 %u0916%u0940%u0964%u0906%u0901%u0938%u0942%u0909 %u0939%u094b%u0902%u0928%u0947%u092c%u0939%u093e%u092f%u093e,%u091c%u093f%u0938%u0938%u0947%u0936%u0941 %u0908%u092c%u093e%u0930%u093f%u0936%u0964%u0964%u0935%u0947%u092c%u0942%u0901%u0926%u0947%u0922%u0942 %u0922%u0930%u0939%u0940%u0925%u0940,%u092a%u0947%u0921%u094b%u0902%u0914%u0930%u092a%u0915%u094d%u0937%u093f%u092f%u094b%u0902%u0915%u094b%u0964%u0932%u0947%u0915%u093f%u0928 %u0930 %u0930%u0924%u0915%u0909%u0938%u0947,%u0926%u093f%u0916%u093e%u0928%u0915%u094b%u0908%u0964%u0964%u091a%u093e%u0930%u094b%u0902%u0913%u0930%u0926%u093f%u0916%u093e%u0938%u093f%u0930%u094d%u092b%u093c %u0937%u0923%u0914%u0930%u0907%u092e%u093e%u0930%u0924%u0947%u0902%u0964%u0936%u093e%u092f%u0926%u092f%u0939%u0940%u0915%u093e%u0930%u0923%u0925%u093e,%u092c%u093e%u0926%u0932%u094b%u0902%u0915%u0947 :%u0916%u0915%u093e%u0964%u0964StandingAloneLightpoledownthestreetStandsaloneForlightitmustshineuntiItshinesnomoreCarontheroadStandsaloneNostrengthdoesithaveTodriveitsownFanontheceilingStandsaloneIt'sperpetuallytremblingBeneaththewindblownPenofgreatnessresemblanceStandsaloneForMindlessdroughtofinkNowritingitwroteMirroronthebrokenwallStandsalonePuppettotheruler'seyesNothingit'sownIbegetamotioninmysoulIhaveamind,alifetocallmyowIcanweepandcryandlaughanddiWhythenamI,asentientWhostandsalone?AmjadAliJ1