A string of letters, a yarn of words;
Truths and lies and sayings of sorts.
Knitting together a tapestry of swords;
Feeling and fueling the flames of hordes.
The sea was selfish, he could have sworn;
Doesn’t let you swim with the crown.
But as shortly as you’re dead and forlorn;
Nor even will it let you drown.
Loaded with loads and loads of loads;
With the weight threatening to disembody.
For the dead man in the dead sea showed;
The weight was life, not the body.
If faith can move mountains, say oh lord!
Why tempt, build and mould evil?
Afraid about who will pray to you, god;
If there was no devil?
The lone nomad of the fading night;
Prepares to say adieu in the morning.
For what he tried to say with all his might;
Was all to be mistaken as mourning.
Falling and stumbling, he is done;
Charred and burnt and ripe with thirst.
‘Cause life plays a fiery game with some;
For they’ve made a tryst with trust.
– Vishvaraj Chauhan