Uprisings amidst turmoil.

The druid churns the magic potion, More gains are his only notion. But men and women to take along, Is not his goal and hes so wrong?

Power blinds his wretched mind, Oh! His deeds put all to the grind. Dying creative powers they soak to grounds, Of the hallways, whose going to turn it around.

People cry their minds a whisper, All time idly spent in repent. Passion dies yet another death each day, And things not achieved all kept at bay.

Winds of change come sweeping across the globe, The soothsayer swings his wand & depths he does probe. A new brotherhood of people he plans to build, Trusts he those who have desires are unfulfilled.

Two years back, in November, at the nerve centre, 20 monks indicated to the leading lights along with their mentor, The way ahead after spells of erudition under learned teachers, A blind eye they turned then, today they all chant like preachers.

My plea to them is to let go of ego and come together, As forces across the globe are down in the slump in all weather. Together all must be to tackle the dark forces that surround, Its creativity that will bring back from depths, to astound

To build the cult the soothsayer has begun, The dominos must align as now nobody must be the favorite son, Err if it has been; now there is no way on land but to move ahead, Cause the ships in troubled waters have already fled.