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Writer's pictureDhairya vyas

The borrowed breath spent


Within winds scorching and times unforgiving,

Within fires of ambition a soul somewhere living,

Who longs for a destination, to perish on the road the only manifestation,

Oh lord, his sweat is the only thing this novice has for giving...


Fighting on the battlefield only to bleed,

earning the relief of exhaustion the only greed,

When was he happy at the shore, the voiceless vagabond longed for more,

He takes what he gets from the high one, thinking not of want and need...


He cares not of his limbs, his breath and his heart,

He cares not if the journey shall rip him apart,

Why shall he take pride in this body of clay, spending each and every drop in this brief play,

The destination decided, all he must do is play his part...


Blood and sweat all given as offerings expecting nothing in return,

The body which shall break, the soul which shall burn,

Where do you want to go beating so fast, how shall I decide, possibilities vast,

The only wealth he desired was all there was to learn...


Alone on this road unknown with only his racing heart to hear,

Alone on this road unknown with only his dreadful thoughts to fear,

What has ever satisfied man, but to know he went as far as he can,

Alone on this road unknown with only the ground beneath his bleeding feet clear...


Take me, take me as I am, I wish to not keep one breath unspent,

Let me perish upon the road to glory, let me be punished and let me repent,

How have I gotten this far without rest, Lord let me know if I passed in your test,

I return to you as empty as I came, each borrowed breath spent...




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