The Phoebes
They called you,
Others as the Surya,
An epitome of energy
And light,
As long as you were
Seen as a deity
And worshipped as the
Holy dispenser of light,
The earth flourished;
In post-modern world,
Stripped of halo
And conceived as a
Body of helium gas,
Profit-driven world
Ceased caring,
Resulting in climate change
And an ozone layer
That will destroy the blue planet
By extra radiation.
The beauty of the Apollo,
Of the Surya riding in
His brilliant chariot
Driven by seven horses,
The powerful one,
Who ripened the crops and
Controlled the cycles
Of the day-night,
Seasons and health,
We, the poets,
Along with earlier seers,
Salute your divine powers
And invoke your blessings
For this degraded planet.
