The King was furious

A stray arrow from his own camp,

killed his favorite horse. 

--

He ordered arrows to be fired 

Towards his own men.

--

He ordered retreat 

And marched with anger 

To his own fort. 

--

All the men at arms,

Left to wear different colors. 

The king was still furious. 

Every night,

I had the same dreary nightmare,

waking me up sweaty, lost and scared.

Always,

I was cuddled -

soothing voice, surrounded me.

Until today,

No warm hands holding me.

No musical notes to make me merry.

Don't get blindsided

King's tone traverses all,

Queen's colors are on flag.

The cogs - shaking, shaping, rotating, oscillating, carrying the burden of whole kingdom -

Are simply cogs without eyes and ears.

When the cogs start sensing

Their aura spreads until it encompasses the royal blue.

He is nobody,

No signs on forehead,

No crown or gowns on head

No colors on clothes.

One day,

He is mending the chores,

Minding his own clock,

Walking the street -

An elephant

garlanded him.

Now,

He weighs life and death for everybody.

Big brother with big stick,

Mending the lines of flock -

Stern yet caring and loved.

Big Don with big gun,

emptying pockets of shun,

cruel, uncaring and detested.

The abrupt shift,

the slice of hand,

the swap of mask,

the turn of hat,

awed everybody.

One always stumbles,

And falls to ground.

It matters to onlooker -

how gracefully they getup -

and fall in line of the great race.

When you are waiting,
And nothing happening.

Not even a fickle of wind,
Not even a leaf is falling,
Not even a cricket is chirping.

The sky blue, orange and radiant
And just stuck like a painting.

The bird in the nest,
silently staring at you.

The music from far away,
playing without a change in rhythm.

The whole nothingness is fulfilling.

Withered by the surprising storm,

Forced to take shelter here,

In this cave atop the hill.

--

Once upon an era back -

This used to be my favorite,

Too many memories floating here.

--

Then, it happened -

Gods fought a war here,

Ferociously and fiercely.

--

The whole valley and hill charred,

All that is lively is dead.

All that is green and brown is charred.

--

Gods rode away -

After a brokered truce,

Leaving all that is dead.

--

After storm passed -

Stretched and strolled -

Scanning all over.

--

Everything I glanced -

Made my heart heavy -

Destressing and depressing.

--

But at the center of it all,

Deep in the valley,

A lonely plant cheered me.

All I strive is to get into a rhythm,

And keep dancing until the music fades.

--

All this grilling, tiling and meditation -

All this spacing, dashing and tripping -

Is to find that nice rhythm I can keep dancing.

--