A King’s Battle

The sky cleared out, but the cloud of dust lingered around….
Clinging of the metal, being the unbeaten sound…
Enough ruthlessness filled the aura, but the chime of the cradle,
long unheard, emanated the childhood diaspora…
Always held the sword high since then,
and always a miniscule lifetime, glittering tear in mother’s eye
would spend…
Asked did I, for slashing through the reason that would possibly cause
her pain,
Mocking smile deceiving the worry, retorted if even could I pull up the
chain…
Now that I am living the moment which conjured the tear,
surrealism stroke, as I could feel the hug so near…
Excruciating pain benumbed the arrows digging the chest,
Could just recollect on which, the face that would rest…
Still the reminiscence of the evening that embellished her,
brings upon the smile to which an anonymous I myself was…
Bears she now the little warrior of mine,
the blood that soars justice and lawfulness above the regalia
shrines…
The battlefield is where lies a king’s pride,
closing my eyes, grateful I am, to die for the motherland that I was
blessed to be raised since child….

~ Yash Brahmbhatt