The symphonies of birds
On the cherry tree,
And the blooming of flowers
On the mountain free.
~on the contrary~
The flowing streams
Harboring the source,
Did not come
From no remorse...
Wars had erupted;
Lives were lost;
What was learnt then,
Cannot be taught.
~Let us flip through the pages of this land~
The bearers of this land,
once united.
Owned by friends,
Later divided.
The first, a young man,
Tall and thin; modest and strong.
Black hair, long and straight;
Eyes as silver as polished slate.
The second, young too,
More or less, the same.
But his eyes were golden
Like a lions mane.
They lived at peace,
Crimes overthrown,
But what happened next,
Could not have been known.
Dead was a member
Of the lions pride,
But the killer knew
That he could not hide.
The killer already known,
Alpha males sixth sense...
It was silvers brother,
But why...?
~soon they meet~
Now, the time has come...
A war has begun.
What determines victory?
Is it pride? Or maybe, dignity?
They meet at the border
A humble river,
Clear as the innocence of the land they stood upon.
~3....2....1....~
The fight has concluded
Vengeance was attained,
Benefits were gained
But a friend was slain.
The velvet blanket,
Padding the land,
Dyeing the river,
In which he stands.
Sorrow on his face;
Sword in its case;
The moon shining bright;
Silver tears on his face.
~he walks away~
Here we are,
Peace remains untouched
The river drained
Streams of silver obtained.
The symphonies of birds
On the cherry tree,
And the blooming of flowers
On the mountain free.
~Ronit Sehgal
@bardofthewind (Instagram)