The mighty perish in their might;
The slain survive the slayer.
Sri Auriobindo
1.
When I was lifted by the wind
to witness the happenings in the
Beauty’s land, — but beauty
being drained from its every vein.
Gates guarded not by the heavenly keepers,
But by the savage artificiality – thorny barricades.
2.
The place populated with Doves,
But their flights limited.
Once a courageous dove soared
to its etherized place, only to
have its wings cut – pinned on a poplar,
a knell to others,
lest their flights may turn it into a dove land.
– a voice declared
In their own beauty’s land,
In their own peaceful land,
They are choked, strangulated,
Breathing hesitatingly
from the airs of innocence.
3.
The land ruled by Falcons,
Hovering all the time with
heavy fluttering.
Devouring the most innocent ones.
Dropping them down from their
bloody beaks – a game of cruelty.
4.
Is this a Falcon land?
Or is this a dove land?
The question remains unsolved.
I being a witness,
Only envision it a land of white doves,
Where a mighty one will envelop
the entire land with the grandeur of its wings
— no more fear of Falcons,
Destroyed by their own might.
For, Mighty perish in their might;
The slain survive the slayer.
