Years ago, I read a very good poem – a memorable poem from 'A Distraught Pilgrim' by Dr. Oliver Friggieri from Malta. 

Our history will peter out someday 

like turbulent waters getting clogged 

like a rolling stone grinding to a halt 

like the terminal tick tock of a clock 

when at dusk darkness descends on our homes 

our children ask us what happened today? 

not knowing we just change tack and hum the strange anthem 

We are gurgling water nobody will drink 

because its waves contain a lethal salt 

We're stones displaced from ancient temples 

of gods in despair, sickened unto death 

at war among themselves. We're pendula 

whose energy is dwindling to nought

In fact, it is a confession of guilt the modern man carries in his soul. Having exhausted all his resources, he is left with nothing but despair and disillusionment. But still, he extracts hopes from sorrows and believes in going ahead like a pilgrim in search of his goal. 

(Top Photo: Courtesy: Amolikka Mishra with thanks)