In the Pyre

Cascading down her body rivulets of milk and petals of roses

A deep breath to get over anxiety, asphyxiated under drops of enmity

Gratitude to stars burning bright to guide the valley

Torches and wick are also lit up to pave way in darkened streets

Either victory will lead in or humility will be burned in satire of genteel

And Storyteller will weave a tale centuries old, show love where war takes it course

Beloved sundry will applaud the brave, she will be there at balcony abased

From dusk to dawn waiting for ‘Almighty’ Judge to seize their fate

The armor made of steel , standing tall till enemy accepts defeat

Still sitting by the queen in the lap of pyre

Will she close the almond eyes and accept her fate

Or will new lines of hope will appear in blackened satire?

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