To capture diverse literary styles, this anthology is divided into two parts: Sonnets 1–25 are Shakespearean (ABAB CDCD EFEF GG rhyme scheme, ending with a punchy rhyming couplet), and Sonnets 26–50 are Petrarchan (ABBAABBA octave followed by a shifting CDECDE or CDCDCD sestet).
Part I: The Shakespearean Sonnets (1–25)
1. The Digital Square
The glowing screens illuminate the night,
As phantom voices whisper through the air.
A billion eyes look up to seek the light,
Yet trapped within a labyrinth of care.
We cross the oceans with a single click,
And speak to strangers on a distant shore,
But algorithms spin their numbers quick,
And leave the lonely spirit wanting more.
The crowded square is built of code and pixel,
Where truth and rumor wear the same disguise,
And anger sharpens like a rusted chisel,
Beneath the gaze of automated eyes.
We hold the entire world within our hand,
Yet walk as exiles in a crowded land.
2. The Satellites
Above the clouds, the silent watchers spin,
Like silver gods that map our every stride.
They trace the borders where the wars begin,
And watch the currents of the shifting tide.
They carry data through the empty void,
A stream of numbers flowing in the dark,
By human hands and clever minds employed,
To spark a flame or extinguish a spark.
They look upon the continents below,
Where cities burn like clusters of bright stars,
And human rivers in their fury flow,
To heal or deepen our historic scars.
They see no lines of nation on the map,
Only the world caught in a single trap.
3. The Global Market
The ships are heavy on the open sea,
With cargo gathered from a thousand lands.
The ledger balances what cannot be,
While wealth is concentrated in few hands.
The silks of Asia and the northern grain,
Are bought and sold before the sun can rise,
A dance of profit and a dance of pain,
Masked by the ticker tape that quickly flies.
The worker bends beneath a heavy load,
In distant factories where shadows fall,
To feed the hunger of a wealthy road,
That hears the price but never hears the call.
The market thrives as earthians reel on the prowl upon the global wire,
While poor men freeze beside a dying fire.
4. The Climate Shift
The ancient ice is weeping in the north,
The rivers rise to claim the crowded street.
The silent desert sends its fury forth,
And green lands wither in the sudden heat.
The seasons lose the rhythm of their dance,
As storms awaken with a deeper roar,
While leaders leave the future up to chance,
And play their games upon a changing shore.
The earth speaks out in thunder and in flame,as earthians reel on the prowl
A language written on the altered sky,
But corporate voices shift the heavy blame,
And sell the comfort of a golden lie.
The clock is ticking toward a final noon,
Unless we learn to read the changing moon.
5. The Refugee
A suitcase packed with memories and tears,
He walks away from all he ever knew.
The border wall is built of ancient fears,
Where flags are high and welcoming is few.
He leaves the ruins of his native home,
To seek a shelter in an unknown place,
Across the bitter waves and salt-sea foam,
An invisible man without a face.
The global court discusses law and right,
And draws the lines where pity must expire,
While children shiver in the winter night,
Far from the comfort of a friendly fire.
The world is wide, yet has no room to spare,
For those who flee the shadow of despair.
6. The Mega-City
The concrete towers pierce the heavy cloud,
A maze of steel where human currents meet.
A million faces lost within the crowd,
And engines roaring on the asphalt street.
The neon signs advertise a dream,
Of endless luxury and fleeting grace,
But poor men struggle in the dirty stream,
To find a corner in this crowded space.
The city never sleeps, it only sighs,
A beast that feeds upon the rural heart,
Beneath the smog that blinds the heavy eyes,
And tears the fabric of our lives apart.
We build our babels high into the air,
But leave the foundations in deep despair.
7. The Automation
The iron fingers never tire or bleed,
The steel mind calculates without a flaw.
They serve the master of efficient greed,
And follow protocols of perfect law.
The human hands that used to build the car,
Are folded now in pockets cold and deep,
While corporate profits travel fast and far,
And working families are left to weep.
The future arrives with a silent hum,
Of wires humming in a pristine room,
A world where human voices have grown dumb,
And clever algorithms weave our doom.
The machine is master of the modern day,
And drives the soul of poetry away.
8. The Fast Fashion
The shirt is bright upon the store shelf,
A bargain bought for just a little coin.
The shopper smiles and congratulates himself,
Blind to the threads that distant sorrows join.
For miles away, beneath a leaking roof,
A young girl sews until her fingers ache,
Her poverty the only living proof,
Of choices that the global markets make.
The trend will change before the month is done,
The cheap cloth thrown into a mountain high,
Beneath the burning of a heavy sun,
Where poisoned rivers run into the sky.
We dress our bodies in a splendid gown,
While tearing modern civilizations down.
9. The Algorithm
It knows the secrets that you never told,
It tracks the choices that your fingers make.
Your darkest fears are packaged and then sold,
For advertisers and for profit’s sake.
It feeds the anger that is in your breast,
And shows the world the things you hate to see,
Until the spirit cannot find its rest,
And doubts the truth of what it means to be.
A silent puppet-master made of code,
That divides the nations into warring camps,
And leads the public down a bitter road,
Where people break the ancient guiding lamps.
The mind is captured by a clever stream,
That robs the sleeper of his native dream.
10. The Shared Language
From different shores we speak a common tongue,
Adopted from the empires of the past.
The songs of Hollywood are loudly sung,
And global trends are spreading very fast.
The ancient idioms begin to fade,
As local voices copy northern style,
A uniform identity is made,
That stretches over many a weary mile.
We lose the color of our native phrase,
The unique stories that our elders told,
To walk within a globalized maze,
Where everything is uniform and cold.
Though speech unites us on a single wire,
We lose the sparks of our ancestral fire.
11.Asian Microchip
A microchip is designed in California’s sun,
Then cast in metal under Asian skies,
Asssembled where the southern rivers run,
And shipped to Europe where the buyer buys.
A fragile thread that circles round the earth,
Connecting every nation in a ring,
It measures value by material worth,
And treats the worker as a useless thing.
One single storm can break the golden chain,
And leave the factories in silence deep,
A sudden reminder of our shared pain,
That global systems cannot always sleep.
We depend on threads we cannot even see,
To sustain our modern luxury.
12. The Echo Chamber
We only listen to the words we love,
And screen out voices that would make us doubt.
We claim our wisdom comes from up above,
And bar the windows to the world without.
The truth is fractured into ten parts,
Each faction holding to a broken piece,
With bitter hatred growing in their hearts,
And arguments that never seem to cease.
The global network was supposed to bind,
The human family in a closer tie,
But now it isolates the stubborn mind,
And magnifies the power of the lie.
We look at mirrors while we think we see,
The vast horizon of reality.
13. The Pandemics
A sudden breath within a crowded room,
A virus travels on a midnight flight.
Before the morning, it has sealed our doom,
And turned the global day into a night.
The borders close, the busy streets are bare,
The engines of the world are forced to pause,
As sickness wanders through the heavy air,
Defying human pride and human laws.
It does not care for wealth or noble birth,
It strikes the beggar and it strikes the king,
And reminds the nations of the fragile earth,
Where every life is a connected thing.
Though fear would drive us into separate caves,
We share the rhythm of the selfsame waves.
14: Imperial Billionaire
The billionaire sits in a quiet room,
His fortune greater than a nation’s debt.
While down below, the heavy shadows loom,
On families caught within a desperate net.
He does not mine the gold or plow the soil,
His wealth is gathered from a stream of light,
The untaxed profit of another's toil,
That grows in silence through the global night.
The old economies of sweat and stone,
Are replaced by numbers on a glowing screen,
Where power rules from an abstract throne,
Unseen, untouched, and utterly serene.
The world is wealthy beyond ancient thought,
Yet human dignity is sold and bought.
15. The Deepfake
The face is yours, the voice is perfectly tuned,
But words you never spoke are spoken clear.
The reputation is severely wounded,
By malice manufactured out of fear.
The eye can no longer trust the thing it sees,
The ear is cheated by a clever lie,
As falsehood wanders on the global breeze,
And clouds the clarity of truth’s bright sky.
We live in history’s most uncertain hour,
Where facts are shadows in a shifting game,
And wicked men use automated power,
To ruin lives and blacken a good name.
If truth is murdered by a digital art,
What shield is left to guard the human heart?
16.The Axes
The axes ring within the southern wild,
The ancient canopy begins to fall.
The home of jaguar and of forest child,
Is cleared to answer the consumer's call.
The global appetite for beef and wood,
Consumes the lungs that give the planet breath,
Converting beauty into market good,
And leaving nature to a silent death.
The distant nations look with cold regret,
But keep their orders flowing just the same,
Entangled in a hyper-capitalist net,
Where no one person takes the total blame.
We cut the trees to make a short-term gain,
And inherit a legacy of drought and pain.
17. The Gig Worker
He rides his bicycle through the freezing rain,
To bring a dinner to a stranger's door.
An app directs him through the city’s pain,
A modern servant to the wealthy floor.
No health insurance guards his hazardous day,
No steady wage ensures his tomorrow's bread,
He works for pennies in a precarious way,
With digital metrics hanging o'er his head.
The global corporation claims he’s free,
An independent partner in the trade,
But hunger is his only master key,
And by his labor is their fortune made.
The network thrives upon this cheap resource,
While human life pursues a downward course.
18. The Modern Tourist
He takes a photo by the ancient shrine,
Then walks away to find a western cafe.
He checks his phone to see the latest line,
And ignores the beggars along his way.
The sacred places of a thousand years,
Are turned into a background for a post,
Divorced from local histories and tears,
A playground for a superficial host.
The cultures change to suit the tourist's eye,
With plastic trinkets sold at every stall,
Beneath the smog of a commercial sky,
That casts a uniform shadow over all.
We travel far to see the world so wide,
Yet carry our own vanity inside.
19. The Space Race
The rockets rise into the evening sky,
Driven by billionaires with money to burn.
They look to Mars with a romantic eye,
And leave the burning earth without concern.
While millions suffer from a lack of food,
And clean water is a luxury rare,
The wealthy seek a loftier, cosmic good,
And build their castles in the upper air.
Is this the triumph of our human mind,
To flee the problems that we could not fix?
To leave our broken cradle far behind,
And play our games across the River Styx?
True glory lies not in the stars above,
But healing earth with global justice and love.
20. The Displaced Language
An old man dies within a lonely valley,
And with him dies a tongue of ancient birth.
No longer will its gentle rhythms rally,
The stories told upon his patch of earth.
The global system wants a single sound,
To make the transaction smooth and fast,
And flattens every mountain to the ground,
Uprooting all our ties into the past.
With every language lost, a mind is dead,
A unique way of looking at the sun,
Replaced by sterile phrases widely spread,
Until the varied tapestry is done.
We celebrate the network's massive reach,
But mourn the quiet death of human speech.
21. The Ocean Plastic
The blue horizon stretches wide and deep,
But underneath the waves, a dark change flows.
The currents gather what we did not keep,
A swirling waste that exponentially grows.
The fish are poisoned by the plastic shred,
The sea-birds perish on a lonely shore,
As modern convenience claims a heavy bed,
And silent oceans can endure no more.
We wrap our lives in disposable sheen,
A moment’s use before it’s cast away,
To sink into the watery marine,
Where it will linger till the judgment day.
The deep blue sea, once boundless and so wild,
Is choked by garbage from a careless child.
22. The Genetic Edit
The code of life is rewritten by a tool,
To cure the sickness or to choose the eye.
The wealthy master breaks the ancient rule,
And shapes the future as the years go by.
Will health become a luxury for the few,
A privilege purchased by a golden account?
While poor men suffer from the old ague,
And watch the genetic barriers quickly mount?
We play the creator in a quiet lab,
And stitch the genes to suit our vanity,
But nature keeps a strict and quiet tab,
On every insult to humanity.
If life itself is tailored for a price,
We turn the human spirit into dice.
23. The Electronic Waste
The old computer goes into the bin,
Replaced by models that are twice as fast.
It travels down a road of toxic sin,
To western Africa, its home at last.
There children burn the wires in the smoke,
To extract the copper for a meager fee,
While heavy metals make the spirit choke,
Beside a poisoned and a dying tree.
Our digital progress leaves a dirty trail,
Of lead and mercury on distant soil,
A dark shadow to our internet tale,
Borne by the children of unceasing toil.
The clean screen that shimmers in your sight,
Began and ended in a toxic night.
24. The Global Microchip
A tiny square of silicon and light,
Controls the rhythm of our modern state.
Without its power, cities lose their sight,
And global shipping grinds to an early halt.
It runs the car, the phone, the guided missile,
The hospital bed, the simple kitchen stove,
A modern marvel sharp as any thistle,
For which the corporations fiercely strove.
The nations argue for its precious source,
And build their navies round a tiny isle,
A sudden flashpoint for a brutal force,
That could destroy the planet in a while.
Our total world relies upon a stone,
More fragile than the flesh upon the bone.
25. The Shared Hope
Though darkness gathers in the global sky,
And systems fracture under heavy strain,
The human spirit raises up a cry,
To find a meaning in our common pain.
From every corner of this turning sphere,
The voices rise for justice and for peace,
To cast away the old dividing fear,
And let the harmony of life increase.
We are one family on a lonely ship,
Sailing together through the cosmic night,
With one shared breath upon the mortal lip,
And one shared longing for a better light.
The walls may rise, but love will find a way,
To lead us onward to a brighter day.
Part II: The Petrarchan Sonnets (26–50)
26. The Border Wall
The iron barrier cuts the desert sand,
A jagged scar across the shifting earth,
To separate the lands of wealth and birth,
From those who suffer in a dry, hard land.
Armed sentries watch with weapons in their hand,
To check the papers that determine worth,
Creating sirens where there should be mirth,
By mandates that the wealthy rulers planned.
But wind and birds ignore the steel line,
The clouds pour rain upon the left and right,
And nature laughs at borders we design.
The human spirit, in the dark of night,
Will cross the wall to find a better home,
As wild seeds scatter over salt-sea foam.
27. The Data Stream
A river flows without a single drop,
Of liquid water in its rushing bed;
By binary code and light pulses fed,
It moves so fast it can never stop.
It gathers secrets from the mountain top,
And counts the hairs upon a modern head,
Predicting where the human feet will tread,
From factory floor unto the retail shop.
We drown within this sea of information,
Yet starve for wisdom in our daily life,
Connected by a digital registration.
The world is filled with academic strife,
As numbers substitute for human touch,
And we know everything, but feel not much.
28. The Megamall
A world of glass beneath a plastic dome,
Where winter never chills the artificial air,
And endless counters show their shiny ware,
To tempt the travelers who wander from home.
Through carpeted aisles the weary shoppers roam,
Forgetting all their local grief and care,
In worship of the brands that flourish there,
Like ancient pilgrims in the streets of Rome.
This is the temple of the modern age,
Where happiness is bought with plastic cards,
And human longing finds a sterile cage.
While outside, in the abandoned yards,
The old traditions crumble into dust,
And iron tools are covered by deep rust.
29. The Smog Sky
The morning rises not in blue and gold,
But in a shroud of yellow, heavy gray,
That hides the features of the modern day,
And makes the youthful city look so old.
The children cough within the apartment hold,
The birds have ceased their cheerful roundelay,
As toxic vapors on the breezes play,
By corporate greed and politics cajoled.
This is the price of our unceasing speed,
The smoke of factories that feed the line,
To satisfy a hyper-capitalist need.
We poison air that once was clean and fine,
And trade the health of future generations,
For short-term profits of industrialized nations.
30. The Online Friend
I know the style of your typing hand,
The avatars you choose to show your face,
Though we have never met in physical space,
And you reside within a distant land.
We talk of things our neighbors downplayed,
And share our sorrows in this digital place,
Entangled in a network's quiet embrace,
By wires stretching over rock and sand.
Is this a friendship true as those of old,
When men sat down to share a loaf of bread?
Or is it phantom light, remote and cold?
A solitary game we play instead,
Where screen-lit ghosts substitute for a touch,
And intimacy matters, but not much.
31.Ergonomics
The line moves onward with a rhythmic click,
A thousand pieces finished in an hour,
Driven by automated engine power,
While human eyes are growing dim and sick.
The supervisor watches with a stick,
Of digital metrics from his office tower,
As workers lose their individual power,
And become components of a clever trick.
They make the toys for children far away,
The shiny gadgets that the West desires,
For meager pennies at the end of day.
Then walk to dorms beside the factory wires,
A silent army in the global machine,
Whose individual faces are never seen.
32. The Global Language
The local dialects are growing weak,
As English conquers every corporate room,
A uniform sound that seals the quiet doom,
Of ancient idioms that elders speak.
From Tokyo to Paris’ highest peak,
The same expressions in the shadows loom,
And commercial phrases find a sudden boom,
To satisfy the market that we seek.
But with the loss of our ancestral tongue,
A way of thinking vanishes from earth,
A song that nevermore will be re-sung.
The colorful variety of human birth,
Is flattened by a global conversation,
That robs the spirit of its inspiration.
33. The Migrant Boat
The wooden hull is leaking in the night,A hundred souls are crowded on the deck,Fleeing the ruin and the bitter wreck,Of wars that took away their native light.The distant shore is shining very bright,But coast guards watch to keep the wave in check,With bureaucratic rules around their neck,To bar the entry of the traveler’s plight.The Mediterranean, once a historic sea,Of trade and culture in the classical day,Is now a graveyard for the refugee.The waves washed all their simple dreams away,While comfortable nations look askance,And leave human survival up to chance.
34. The Outsourced Labor
The phone rings loudly in the Indian night,A worker answers with a borrowed name,Playing a part in a corporate game,To guide an American shopper aright.She speaks of weather that is out of sight,And hides her accent to avoid the blame,Adapting to a culture not her claim,Beneath the buzzing of a neon light.Her hours are inverted by the sun,She sleeps when all her neighbors are awake,To see that global business can be done.A strange connection that the markets make,Where miles divide the problem from the cure,And human identity is made unsure.
35. The Cashless Society
The paper money vanishes from hand,Replaced by pulses in a central bank,Where everyone is given a credit rank,That tracks their actions over all the land.No private purchase can be smoothly planned,No secret giving to a beggar lank,Without a record in the system's tank,By clever algorithms coldly scanned.The total state possesses perfect sight,To lock your fortune with a single key,And turn your daily day into a night.If money is a token to be free,What happens when the digital network breaks,And takes away the choices that a free man makes?
36. The Call Center
A thousand cubicles within a room,Where voices murmur like a swarm of bees,Answering questions from across the seas,From morning light until the evening gloom.The digital monitors in silence loom,To calculate efficiency and fees,While workers try their masters to appease,In isolation from the outdoor bloom.They soothe the anger of a distant buyer,Who does not know their city or their state,And only wants his technical problem fixed.A lonely bridge across a global wire,Where human feelings are combined and mixed,By automated rules of corporate fate.
37. The Monoculture
The fields stretch wide under a single crop,A green horizon made of uniform grain,Dependent on the chemical fertilizer and rain,With corporate patents that will never drop.The local seeds are forced to quickly stop,The ancient varieties are killed with pain,To maximize the short-term market gain,From village field unto the trading shop.But nature loves variety and change,And breaks the system with a sudden pest,That wanders over many a rural range.We think our modern science is the best,Yet build a fragile food supply for all,That with one single storm can quickly fall.
38. The Virtual Museum
The paintings hang within a digital space,High-resolution pixels on a screen,Where every brushstroke can be clearly seen,Without the travel to a distant place.The Louvre and Prado lose their physical base,As internet connections intervene,To show the treasures of the past serene,To every member of the human race.But do we lose the aura of the stone?The quiet silence of a holy hall,Where masterpieces stand in grace alone?The digital copy flattens out the wall,And turns the sacred into common food,To suit the consumer's fleeting mood.
39. The Tax Haven
A tiny island in a tropical sea,Where silent banks protect the secret gold,Of corporations wealthy and so bold,That claim their profits should be entirely free.They drain the schools of nations far away,And leave the hospitals in tatters old,By legal tricks that clever lawyers sold,To keep the public revenues at bay.The global system lets the money fly,Across the borders with a silent speed,Beneath the cover of a sunny sky.While citizens suffer from a lack of deed,The wealth is hidden in a palm-fringed land,Beyond the reach of justice’s heavy hand.
40. The Fast Food Chain
The golden arches shine in every land,From Moscow’s plazas to the streets of Rome,Offering comfort like a second home,With uniform meals that corporate minds have planned.The local kitchens can no longer stand,Against the efficiency of grease and foam,That captures children everywhere they roam,With flavors engineered by a chemist's hand.The world is growing fat on corporate food,Losing the recipes our elders knew,To satisfy a quick, commercial mood.A uniform diet for the global crew,That flattens out the culture of the plate,And leaves us unhealthy in our modern state.
41. The Mega-Dam
The river rises to submerge the valley deep,Uprooting villages of ancient name,To generate the electricity and fame,That modern cities require and want to keep.The local people are left to loudly weep,Their history swallowed by a watery game,While distant engineers take no blame,And corporate profits over mountains leap.The water flows to light the neon sign,And turn the wheels of distant factories,While nature suffers from our structural design.The salmon perish in the altered seas,And ancient forests die beneath the wave,To turn a living river to its grave.
42. The Supply Bottleneck
One single ship is stuck within the lane,A sandy channel in a desert land,And suddenly the global trade is scanned,And factories are stopped in sudden pain.The prices rise like sudden autumn rain,The store shelves are empty of their brand,As systems fail that corporate leaders planned,Revealing vulnerabilities in our chain.We built a world of instantaneous speed,Without a buffer for a stormy day,To satisfy our hyper-capitalist need.The modern network is a house of clay,That crumbles when a single brick is moved,And proves our clever science unapproved.
43. The Electronic Waste Mountain
A hill of plastic rising in the sun,Where children scavenge through the toxic soil,To find the copper from another's toil,When digital updates are quickly done.The western nations claim the race is won,With clean environments and green turmoil,While shipping garbage that will soon despoil,The lands where southern rivers slowly run.Our progress leaves a dark and heavy stain,On distant valleys that we never see,A legacy of sickness and of pain.The digital future that was meant to free,The human family from the weight of stone,Is built on broken bones and trash alone.
44. The Luxury Enclave
Behind the gate, the lawns are green and bright,With swimming pools beneath a perfect sky,Where wealthy exiles watch the world go by,In total isolation from the night.While just outside, the slums are in a plight,With open sewers and a children's cry,Where poor men struggle just to live and die,Without a helper in their desperate fight.This is the fracture of our global city,Divided into camps of gold and dust,Without a bridge of justice or of pity.We build our fortresses because we must,To guard our fortune from the hungry crowd,Beneath a dark and a stormy cloud.
45. The Automated Drone
A shadow flies across the sunny day,Without a pilot in its metal frame,To deliver packages or take a aim,At targets miles and miles away.It follows lines that clever coders lay,And turns the human struggle to a game,Where life and death are corporate and the same,And automated algorithms hold the sway.The sky is filled with mechanical sound,That robs the worker of his quiet rest,And drops the lightning on the open ground.Is this the future that we hold as best?A world where machines determine who will die,Beneath a cold and an unblinking sky.
46. The Micro-Plastic Sea
The fish are swimming in a changing tide,Where invisible particles are floating free,From every synthetic fabric in the sea,That modern convenience cast aside.The ocean giants can no longer hide,From toxic elements that cannot be,Destroyed by nature or by chemistry,And wander through the waters deep and wide.It enters in the food chain of the earth,To return unto the plate of human birth,A sudden harvest of our careless deed.We wrapped our civilization in a weed,Of cheap disposables that will outlast,The memory of our historic past.
47. The Space Junk
A cloud of metal circles round the sphere,The broken remnants of our cosmic race,Dead satellites that wander through the space,Creating hazards that the rocket designers fear.We stained the heavens that were once so clear,With garbage gathered from our earthly base,And left a trail of ruin and disgrace,In wider zones that once were held so dear.The human family cannot leave a place,Without its signature of waste and stone,From deep blue oceans to the outer space.We claim the universe to be our own,Yet fill the orbit with a dangerous shell,That turns our stellar dream into a hell.
48. The Virtual Reality
He puts the goggles on his weary eyes,And suddenly the bedroom fades away,Replaced by features of a perfect day,Beneath the simulation of bright skies.He walks through kingdoms where no sorrow cries,And beautiful phantoms on the breezes play,To chase his solitary grief away,With digital comfort made of clever lies.But outside, in the actual room of stone,The paint is peeling and the streets are bare,And he remains untouched and all alone.We choose the fiction over actual care,And lose the power to reform the earth,By worshiping a world of artificial birth.
49. The Sovereign Debt
A nation pledges all its future years,To international banks that hold the line,To pay the interest on a bad design,Of loans that vanished into political fears.The schoolhouse closes and the public tears,Are ignored by auditors who undermine,The sovereignty of nations fine,While corporate power at the public sneers.The children inherit a heavy chain,Before they even learn to read or write,A legacy of poverty and pain.The financial markets rule the global night,And extract their tribute from the poorest soil,To reward the masters of unceasing toil.
50. The Global Citizen
I have no country but the turning earth,No flag but clouds that wander in the sky,I hear the human family's single cry,And value every person from their birth.The ancient divisions are of little worth,The borders drawn by kings who told a lie,To keep the public anger running high,And substitute material things for mirth.We are one crew upon a fragile boat,Sailing together through the cosmic night,Dependent on our shared love to float.Let justice guide us to a better light,And break the walls that keep our hearts apart,To heal the wounds of modern global art.
