The Vessel Poem by Narayan Hore

From that Grand Vessel hauling souls of Men,
I chanced upon a passing sight - I saw
Through a window the visage of East and West,
That East which first bore life - How shall I draw?
Factories, sewers, theft, politics, death,
Blood money, rotting, staleness, hate, Sin's crest -
I turned towards the West - slow smelt her breath.
High handedness, secrecy, snobbery, greed,
A boot full spiked; her sounds threshed the East,
The demon sadist's pleasure - Oh! But both
Had strangely a Harbour each, gleaming with sand.

Their afflicted hearts I felt no need
To ever redeem; But the other way
When I looked closely - It bore no Land.