Revolution- A Poem

I was the freedom the black slave called

I was the land of the Catholic Lord

I was the magpie’s cry of fear

I was the signal that truth was near

I was the Muslims’ voice galore

I was Shakespeare’s sonnet when they said encore

I was the Britishers’ silver mines

So well set upon Indian lines

I was the last run on the very last ball

I was the reason of the Spartans’ fall

I was the garden of the Mughal kings

I was the hope of the lark that sings

I was the dust, the water, the wine

Of all the men, through history, and time

The wheel I was, and firearms too

I was the how, the why and who

I am the flags on the window panes

I am the enemies’ efforts in vain

I am here today, but sit and wait

‘Revolution’ is my name, the world is my bait.