Skip to main content

The Untamed Power


The peace of the entire cosmos can be stolen
When the winds of untamed power blow;
Everything and everyone is strewn,
Like dry husk from the crop is flown,
When an unannounced dust storm rages.

Power must not reside in the hands
Of those with dark hearts,
Who wear the attire of fat follies and flaws.

The reckless, unbridled horses in human form,
With hearts of stone, knowing nothing but to trample.
To trample the meek and the downtrodden.
Demons control their souls,
Far from ever being pristine.

The kingdom of darkness feeds their ego,
Those who negate goodwill and preach malice.
Heinous are their attempts
To outrage all that is fine in humanity.

Such men in power draw solace
From the suffering and sobs of the crowd,
That knows nothing but hard work and toil.
The spring of such serpents’ joy
Is the helpless tears of men of soil.

But all these men reside blindly
In a fool’s paradise;
They forget that “pride always hath a fall.”
The mightiest kings and emperors
Could not escape the decline of untamed power,
Their tall empires touching the ground.

All tyrants pay the price,
Sooner or later for their crimes.
Since, howsoever humble the men of soil may be,
They become the epitome of resilience and strength;
When tyranny loses all hold,
They rise to tame
The untamed power and strength.



Comments

Post a Comment

Do leave your comments

Popular posts from this blog

When Skill Meets Determination:A Salon, A Story and a Salute

Since time immemorial, both men and women have wished, ventured, and craved to look good, better, and sometimes the best. In every nook and corner of the world, whether in a bustling city, a quiet suburb, or a small village, salons and beauty parlours stand as testimony to this universal desire. With each generation, the dependence on such services has grown, shortcuts have become acceptable, and professional grooming has turned into a necessity rather than a luxury. This observation isn’t a conclusion drawn from research; it is born from personal experience with my twenty-one-year-old daughter. Having recently begun to manage her life independently, she is particular about her appearance and outlook. For the past three years, she has been living abroad and returns home every December for a month. During this time, she sweetly wishes to be pampered in every possible way. One such indulgence is getting her hair washed and blow-dried at a salon so that her curtain bangs remai...

Fire

Fire, fire, fire, Can I dare to beg of you to be hired? Hired by someone as fragile as me, A timid soul, afraid to set herself free. I know I am too timid to dream of taming you; It is idiosyncratic, perhaps, to think this through. It is in no way wise to walk these lines, Yet your fierce companionship my spirit designs. I want you by my side to help me burn away All that is negative, all that leads astray; All the weeds in the dying, diminishing garden of my life, All the bitterness, sorrow, and silent strife. The effigy of greed, of need, and all that dares To kill fine human values and replace them with snares, Needs to be set on fire, yet I feel My weak bones lack such divine zeal. Though I aspire to rise like a phoenix from my ashes, To emerge renewed after life's cruel clashes, For that, you must become my ally, A force within that will never let me die. Fire, you who are a symbol of both death and resurrection, Of destruction, creation, and sacred transformation, You graciou...

Silence

Silence is serene. Silence is solace. In several ways, silence saves the savage soul. Silence is static, strong, like sky-kissing mountains circling a sleepy hill town. Silence is somber when it stems from sadness. Silence strives to sleep over sickening strategies. Silence confers the childlike sleep upon the soulful, while it steals the peace of the soulless. Silence smiles and silences all conjectures. For a few, silence is a sweet remedy; for others, silence is a malady. For some, silence is a question impossible to crack. For others, silence is the answer to every crux. For some, silence is a shield. For others, the sharpest knife, the searing scythe. Most times, aparently silence saves bonds. At times, it breaks them into forms unrecognizable. Silence wears the face of a silent sage, yet stands indisputed as  a symbol of untamed rage. Life screams. Death silences. silence is a voice in itself, raising walls too high for unwanted noise to climb. Silence is a misunderstood path...