What Does The Future Hold.

In a chaotic world of utter confusion.
Where honesty is now just an illusion.
Controlled by egomaniac politicians
Any truth we say is held under suspicion.
Where greed is now the order of the day.
Monitoring every word we write or say.
Are we at the point of no turning back.
Do we have a chance to get freedom back.

But still a spark can rise from the ashes,
When courage outlasts the system’s lashes.
A whisper of hope in the crowd’s unrest,
Reminding the world we deserve the best.
If hearts stay fierce and hands interlace,
We might yet reclaim this stolen space.

Will we still live in the world of confusion,
Would a century from now be like this
Or more like this?
Will our honestly continue to be an illusion?
Will greed still be the order of the day?
Will our words still be monitored?
In a century time, will we be better than this
Or will we be the same?

If the road ahead is choked with shadow,
let us sow lanterns in the cracks.
Each voice kept honest in the telling,
each hand refusing the chain’s weight,
each act of kindness a quiet rebellion.
The future is neither promised nor denied—
it is built in the small, stubborn choices
that refuse to spill their light.

When decadent Ways are a thing of the past
We've seen too much by now its not okay
Our lust for life has propagated us away
This floating dismay, distress beacon
Same old earth exploding into oblivion

Lust makes you lost
A roadmap to destruction
A generation need praises
instead of to raise
Needing money, penny
At the end mourning;
and penury
Nothing to offer
An offering not acceptable
Preference of fame and name
What is the future?
Wake up! Wake up
Oh young leaders

The future has but hazy lines
Not strength or power to define
To choose our path or moral code
To help the vulnerable young and old
To ease each burden treat each wound
Listen not to words of fools.

So stand as beacons in the storm,
Break the cycle, shun the norm.
Let justice be the seed we sow,
That brighter generations grow.
For if we falter, turn away,
The light we seek will fade to gray.

Salian makes an excellent analogy :
Be the beacon in the storm.
Let the storm rage all it wants.
The reed that sways violently in the wind
Will still survive the storm.
It will bounce back,
It will outlive the fierce winds.
Let us take example on this.
(SR. 9.8.2025)
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Politics like the unwanted herbs,
Cover the fields of social life,
And eats the all crops, necessary.
For flowering a social life,
But, sooner or later it dies itself,
And social life regains its harmony,
By itself, As social life is core,
Of existence of life upon the earth,
And politics is efforts of devils,
To control it, by hook or crook.

What awaits is yet to be
A grim future of much disease
A worthless time
Filled with half truths and lies
A tortured soul of what once was
Empty lives
Empty hugs

A barrier awaits us
shield of tomorrow
every breath stretches
I couldn't call it by your name
it keeps insomnia in suspense
will you always see us repeat ourselves?
tired, the top spins
a new opportunity to emerge.
Is your embrace a shelter,
or a push that drags us into the void?