'The living corpse' - a poem inspired by the story of Baba Amte and his work for people inflicted with leprosy.

I once heard a story about a man who died yet breathed;
Half buried under the soil while his own kin looked on -
A living corpse who once laughed, who once loved,
Wounded and helpless, waiting for his life to be gone.

Inspiration is futile if naught inspires.
How long have I looked yet not seen?
Blinded by life's pretty petty desires,
Heartless to humanity I have been.

Who said fullness of life is a prerogative of the privileged alone?
While his own brother has nothing to call his own
While another wishes for death more than air
Just like that living corpse - unknown, buried somewhere.