I hear something significantly portentous

I hear    something   significantly   portentous

“ I   hear  America  singing”.

 I hear London  calling,

Calling, calling   for cornucopia

Of  images  for  Creativity,

The   ghost in Dr. Faustus  is  being

  exorcised     by the   cool  moon tidal

waves  of  the  River  Thames,

Rippling!    Rippling!

The  wheel of  London Eye

Wheeling, wheeling  into  a

Realm   of   unexplored  serendipity.

But  I   Hear  in      India

Some   teguments  weeping,

Wailing, for  the  slow  loss

Of  Sanctity, the country of

Vedas  is   crumbled  to   KURKURE

At  tea-time table.

The  ancient  thread of cradle                                                                                

Of  ages  and civilisation

Is  deviously  crumbling to pieces:

 Life  is  only  for  limca     not           

For    litany  or  serious  discourses.

 I hear  Now  India  weeping.