This poem on a contemporary leader might interest the readers of this blog.
On the
Leader-Speak
He has painted
his own face black
with his own
hands
to shine in the
firmament in brightest colours
He mistook his
own face for that of another
to outshine him forever
Would history
that relentless judge assign him
to the murkiest
corner of the firmament
where the darkest
luminaries form a cluster
Turning the pages
of history
if he could in his
afterlife
would he become
remorseful
about the
torrents he let loose day after day
or feel at home among
the ensemble
of Margdarshaks
who mentored him
to unbridle his
tongue
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