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15/12/2016
UNCONQUERED SELF


 

I may conquer a million enemies,

The scriptures warn,

But my one true enemy

Still survives within.

 

I have fought this battle

All my life. Now, we are spent,

My ego and I, bruised survivors

Of an unequal strife.

 

Life is that Kurukshetra,

That Uhud, that Champ de Mars,

In which there are no victors,

Only victims, wounds and scars.

 

Unbuckle my armour,

sheathe my sword,

Unstring my bow,

Break every arrow.

 

I am an untimely Ashoka,

A belated Buddha.

I know now I did not need

to kill others,

To destroy their seed.

I am a Pandava-Kaurava,

Split from a shared seed.

 

I know my ego will die

With me, but I am the seed

of my own resurrection.

My spirit will survive

To wear that an unwon laurel,

That thornless crown.

 

 

22 NOVEMBER 2016  

 
15 December 2016
 
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