There’s this tale of all (e)(i)mmigrants be always told,
For Centuries likes of you, me, Vernaculars got OLD;
Forefathers for great opportunities wandered alone,
As colonists, invaders, job seekers on (un)claimed zones.
You wanted the CLOUD to reach and nourish lands,
By following the path on a premeditated built Tracks;
Now presume, alike a day, with climate change; vanish,
Those carrying every drop of scent of Freshness in it!
Whether sky-high or underneath, oceans’ enwreathe,
Bits that Bytes, alike evolution takes its own course,
Those Clouds that link you & me & what comes after,
Thought: once Internet gone, how relevant it shalt be, fore! 😊
© Pranav Chaturvedi 2025