Killing the art of Poetry - II

Eager minds, bright new faces,
Know nothing about the coming race.
Where colleagues are competitors
Lecturers their accomplices,
Books their weapons and conceit everywhere.

Feeble minds may balk,
Some leaving the job mid-way,
Still some will battle on,
With hopes of going further on.

A few wise old men,
In the midst of all this,
Quietly hold their own and fight,
Not against any enemy but someone within.
They have been through hell and are trying to survive,
Where others have given up and died,
They go on, cherishing unfulfilled dreams,
Unspoken, and secret desires of the heart.

The young don’t know, they don’t care,
There’ll always be people who dare,
This is the way of the world.
Not everyone has to be brash and bold,
In the end, we all are the same,
Is it not, even if we don’t have fame?