By: Raj Mohan

All the knowledge is yours,
Fantasy is your darshan,
Do not match with the soul,
What kind of mirror is that?

Your Generation is sad,
There is a thought of slaves.
The poison of mind should not come out,
What kind of mantra is this?

From the confusion of the routine
Pick up the eyes and look outside.
To whom I thought to be dust,
That Sea is the one.

You have the blood of the warriors,
You are the son of blood seeds.
You have the qualities of a child......Rajmohan