Poet: Darsh
The warrior trudged along,
On a distant land where he didn’t belong.
There wasn’t any habitation in sight,
Utterly exhausted, yet there was no respite.
The conqueror now felt vulnerable,
The scars of the war had been insufferable.
He couldn’t bear the pain anymore and collapsed,
Pondered that death could be his oasis perhaps.
And lo, he heard a melodious cry
His bosom filled with hope as he gazed towards the sky.
What he saw was a magnificent sight,
As it washed away the dismay of the night.
With her majestic winds spread wide, the Phoenix soared
The lion in his heart thunderously roared.
He arose and looked down at his gashes
The Phoenix was a symbol, beauty can rise from ashes.
A feather of this splendid creature lingered in the air,
He replaced the helmet’s plume with this emblem of forthcoming flair.
He walked for several miles only to find his city razed by fire,
With this newly found strength being his ally, he rose to become the King of the greatest Empire.
