The War Cry
The horses and elephants ran wild,
chariots wheeled themselves to fore,
as swords and javelins exchanged places:
the arms, legs, head, neck, and faces;
feelings and emotions were spared
as they were already counted dead.
The victor roamed with diminishing
confidence, and retreated to his solitude.
The soldiers lifted a white horse, high,
for the white flags had turned all red;
peace found itself difficult to declare
in the absence of inspiring monarch.
A voice surfaced amidst wailing and moans:
Experience is a painful proof of final truth.
--
c s shah
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