Life on wheel

Another dawn, another day
yet another moment to make his hay.
A mother crying for her lost son
a widow still searching for her husband
rummaging for their father are those little kids,
but he, is no more, who fulfilled their needs.
Left the home to sell the vegetables,
for that vendor had many dependables.
Left his place to meet his family,
but the death met him midway terribly.
Terribly horrifying was that trauma,
which added to the ongoing dilemma.
The dilemma of wrong and right,
is their nobody to fight.
Should they think we yielded to them,
that they added to their own fame.
An act supposed to threaten us,
that they thought could be a colossus.
For them it was fun,
but we succumb to none.
No floods could drench us,
No fires could blow off us,
No quakes could shake us,
No heat could burn us.
On the top of the wheel we stand,
the slippage is their land,
The wheel that never stops,
let it be any monster that gallops.
We hold our spirits high,
very high to make us fly.
The flights to fight terrorism,
to make them the center of criticism.
United we stand, united we crawl,
and so our stature is tall, very tall.