When the Queen falls

Scars of failure

Winter spreads out a white blanket
And dwindles Nature's bustling activity.
The freezing breeze hums a harsh lullaby
And send the field rodents, to snore.

Thus queen winter parades over her kingdom,
And fights for her reign as the rays sharpen.
When a tendril of life emerges through sleet and sleep,
Winter bows her head to Spring and takes her leap

Over the grass fields that loomed over the horizon,
Unaware of the hidden preying gaze,
Doth the gentle and wild gazelle graze.
But, hark! It finally falls prey to the lion's blaze.

It is not the establishment of power in this matter
But God's cycle of resurrection, death and manner.
There are neither victors nor losers in this cycle
But only defined stages that one must go through.

Heart being made of flesh and stardust; wounds and faith,
Receives salvation on the conception of the truth,
It is then obliged to accept failure and pain
And not be deceived by the lesser seconds of glory.

A man on the battlefield suddenly became aware
Of his rapid heartbeat and the pace of his mare
A layer of cold sweat lined his brow.
Ah! The fear of failure had finally turned into his foe.

As he laid on the battlefield, defeated and dishonoured,
With his enemies victorious laughter booming in his ears
He thought it would have sounded grander if it was his own
With shame branding his name, he returned back home.

He beat his chest and spat at the earth.
And hid his face behind shame and wept!
Pink tinted his skin when his eyes met another,
And he worried his wife with repeated cuss words.

He buried his pain beneath his anger,
And sharpened his swords with firm resolution
New strategies were devised and new anthems sung.
His heart beat hard but the drums were hit harder.

Eyes met again at the battlefield,
And swords glinted in the sunlight.
He was strong but his opponents stronger.
Fear still lingers near and so does hope.

On the verge of defeat, he gets up again.
Dignity is easily lost but toughly regained
Shame is wicked and it's bowl, unfortunate
Losing should neither be ones choice nor solace.

As the swords clashed and gazes locked,
The northern wind brought in realisation
"Only he who gives up is defeated
Everyone else is deemed victorious."

When dawn approaches decades later
These past difficult times become mere stories-
Stories of heroism that he recites with proud smiles,
To delight his grandchildren's cherubic hearts.

Do not loathe the scars that taint your body, and soul
They are proof of your long and hard experience.
They can falter your enemies heart and weaken his knees
As scars can speak louder than swords that created them.

Only failure can emphasise the taste of victory.
Only defeat can defeat your arrogance,
And renew your self confidence and might.
The victor may lead but only the defeated can guide.