Riding on whom the blood stained
swords,
Or another day, is greeted with any
ceremony;
Who witnessed the battles being
won or lost,
And lands in despair or rising
in harmony.
Who falls only, to assemblage
with nature,
And befriends, to never ever retract;
In a journey that has or not any end,
Miles & Miles on a theatrical act.
Brought medals trophies to countless riders,
In bread & circus of unwanted seeds;
Whose wisdom endured times & cycles,
To put over the door, the iron, on its feet.
© Pranav Chaturvedi 2022