ALIVE OR DEAD
K. M. Kale
In the midst of machinery
We’re becoming almost dead
With ever new technologies
We’re being constantly fed.
There seems to be no work left
Except to press buttons
Which has made us into
A race of automatons.
We’ve produced every comfort
To the point of satiation
Production we know well
But not the joy of creation.
To come to true life again
We need a reviving balm
Which can only be supplied
By Nature’s blissful calm.
Alas! We have no time
To look at bountiful Nature
Busy as we all are
In mutilating her every feature.