The Last Sin Standing

It has been ages,

A thousand dusks and countless dawns

Have passed over my immortal head.

Once, I was a gallant knight

Charm without limits,

Pride and power coursing through my veins

But Madhav,

cursed me.

made me undead.

And I blinded by the glory of valour,

By the arrogance of youth

Took it as a gift, not knowing its weight.

If only I had begged

Begged for mercy.

If only I had asked not for glory,

But for death.

How long I have yearned for it,

The peace of perishing.

I witnessed my father’s fall,

My brothers-in-arms turn to ash,

Felt the fire of that cursed battle

A righteous war,

A war said to be just,

But soaked in the blood of dharma.

Mass annihilation.

A battlefield echoing with the cries of the fallen.

And yet…

(I remain.)

Like Kurukshetra itself

Sacred, yet stained

My soul bears the blood

Of those I could not save,

Or chose not to.

My body, still youthful, unwithering

Yet my mind,

A rotting vessel,

Eroded by memories I cannot forget.

Each day, I raise my eyes to the sky,

Praying for Mother Earth

To open her arms,

To embrace me

As she has embraced all others.

To let me decay.

To let me end...

And sometimes

I don’t know who it is,

Who binds me ?

I carry the mutilated body of my faith

On my weak shoulders,

Searching for the one

Who made me this way

Left, astray, unloved.

Tell me!

Who is to blame?

Now, there is peace.

But not purity.

The world has changed

Cursed in new ways,

Evil in subtler forms.

And yet

I Remain 

I walk among them,

A forgotten shadow of the past,

Undying.

Unwanted.

Unfree.