Two Hundred Channel Islands.

Two hundred countries of the Earth,
Like twenty tens of channels
Of some heavenly TV station.
Each channel unrolling its own program,
Its revolutions, heroes;
Staring proudly
From the screen, eyes looking dignifiedly
On his or her people.
And on me, the stranger, with
Half-suspicion, half-welcome.
Sometimes erring, sometimes smiling
All wanting to be great.
Two hundred islands
Caught in their triumphs and tragedies,
Doldrums, recessions,
Complexes and inconsistencies,
Now puffing up their chests,
Now cringing in obsequouisness
Before a bigger channel.
Change your channel and you are
In a whole diferrent world,
Developing of its own
Centering upon itself,
Thinking itself the very core of
The Universe
From which other countries
Spring out as additions to it.
Such is the way people view themselves
In their tribal self-centeredness.