Whilst riding in chariots of victory,

Decorated with white flowers,

They fought valiantly,

And resembled the Gods of War.


The sheer strength of their will,

Had made them blind.

For only the honour of their mother,

Reigned their minds.


And the legendary endeavor,

Absolved many of their sins.

Creating a saga,

That would never be forgotten.


Soon victory came running to them,

But the price they paid was forseen by none.

For who knew God had decided a strife,

Assuring success in return for their life.


And the dreadful moment too arrived,

Filling redness in everything that silently thrived.

The beautiful doves,

Started a voyage of their own,

Flocking the sky that weeped above.


And the heavens too unlocked

The gates of gloom,

And unleashed showers,

That kissed the gallent warriors.


Though smiling now,

They lie cold and still.

Embracing the warmth of their patriotism and thrill.

But their magnanimity shall never cease

To inspire others.

And it would be awe and love,

Their glorious story shall always stir.

For Angels of Peace,

They were called.

And Angels of Peace,

They will be called.



Quickly yet swiftly,
I feel lost.

The shooting stars
Make me wish for a time capsule.
To steer me back in time,
To the days that were blissful .

When I was living,
The beautiful dream I’d never dreamt of!
And though it wasn’t perfect,
I cherished the flaws.

Now Time and again,
The melancholic music of my heart
plays itself,
Yet Optimistic as ever,
Still beseeches the powers of heaven,
To let the grains of sand fall back in the glass,
And the wind to change its path.
To let the pages of the holy book turn,
And start again where the felicity began.

So I sit here,
pleading with hopeful eyes,
For a time capsule.
And to let me go back.