A candle can light a space,
But,a child can light up the world.
Seldom does man realize this,
When being caught amidst the fierce race of survival;
disguised in the form of Industrialisation.
Like a blooming flower ,
being burnt in the fire;
does the ugly fire of child labour,
burn the child with its future.
The eyes that speak to us, nature’s wonders,
gets burdened for a child, by the load of mankind,
craving for the dusk and darkness,
for that ever elusive sleep of night,
separating them from joy and peace
Coloured papyrus with value attached
decide their fate and
sweat becomes their inseparable friend (or foe).
Know not the path to light,
nor the colours of the world outside.
The shining moon of the night sky,
fails to evoke admiration.
Scented breeze no longer kisses the tender cheeks,
nor the serene mountains capture their attraction,
for, the tender hearts, are all at work ;
With no time to emote nor feel the life they live.
Time to hear to the cry of the hearts,
to save the budding flowers from being burnt.