Game of virus



A game of Religion & Politics ,
Played by predators called orators.
People or prey! Bowed watching the play.
Sun at dusk, moon at dawn,
This was the voice of the might.
The chorus repeated:
Our saviour, you are always right.
Sitting cross-legged at every site,
An invisible force was the fright.
Announced claimants who are always right:
Coronavirus! We caught it too tight.
Hospitals or the gamble wards,
Like in the black hole of Calcutta,
Asphyxiated men,
Queued for Oxygen like a commoner in ration lines.
Imbalanced population wins the game,
Moist crematorium as wet matches,
Igniting the bodies like fire crackers.
Extra hours at burial grounds,
A token to enter the final destination,
Clay and corpse of assorted religions,
A ramp from pause to full stop.
Religion and Politics brawler to win,
Oh! Both lost to the God of disease.

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