The rucksack hanging down on a
side
In it lies all the supplies for
sustenance
Guns loosely hanging on the other
Jumping and jiving with the rhythm of the boot
For it doesn't know its counts of sin
Both balances the shoulders and
The line between life and
death
We seek out to the path of
justice
Thumping down the barracks
Out the meadows and lakes
Life is taking the toil on him
For his hands smells of blood
And the mind shivers of blood-curdling wails of helpless souls
that left their dilapidated
embodiment to attain the abode of peace
and of the heart touching wails of weeping homes
that lost their beloved love
The tremor of the consequences
shatters the heart
The valor of a man braves it well
For he who knows the dharma of
war,
It is nothing but, do or perish
Going to the battlefield is a
task
Ahead lies misery and grief
but the end of the path is glory
and laurels
Seeking the man and his kith and kin
Girding up his loins and
keeping his mind set and
ready
The moment of war
that seeks not more, but the
whole of you
Flee out of sight, so you will
lose out what is all you pride
Fight the way out,
The road to glory is not that all
All what matters for him is
his dignity upheld
No comments:
Post a Comment