PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The moon shone over the lake,

And the cold breeze blew.

On the bank of the lake sipping a cup of tea,

Sat a warrior whose face glowed.

Unlike the others, he didn't carry sword

He didn't have shield or any weapon,

He was the one who carried a pen,

And wrote about the battles unknown.

Brilliant was saki who described the dusk,

"Dusk was the hour of the defeated ".

Where all the losers came out in dark,

And hoped the mistakes wont be repeated.

Different was he, for he didn't mourn,

He just took a sip and hummed a song.

Curious was I,for I was an observer

In the hour of drunk,I saw a sober.

I sat beside him and he greeted with a smile.

I felt the warmth,he was noble and not a vile.

Years had passed since i saw someone calm,

And Whose words were divine just like a psalm.

I asked him about his untimely visit to the lake,

For it was dusk the hour of one who failed.

He smiled and looked straight into my eyes,

And i could see the pain which they beheld. 

He told me about his own saga,

The many wars he lost and won.

Greater were the sacrifices he made, 

For which he never mourned.

He finished the tea and began to leave,

He had to travel more for he was a loner.

He smiled at me,his eyes still had the spark.

And eventually he was lost in the dark.

I took a deep breath, and walked around. 

My eyes were moist but i still had a smile,

After all he didn't seem stranger to me,

I just met myself after a long while.