~ Mono no Aware ~

Something about this picture is just *too* precious.

World Class

World Class

It’s like all these years, the determined Prince marched on into war after war, watching his once proud army bleed and fall; saving them from utter defeat so often, but always moving further and further away from the dream and realm of victory..

Until the Empire sent forth its finest general, a horrific injury keeping him off the battlefield, but his mind as sharp as ever. The Empire thought it was just getting rid of a non-soldier in armor; transferring him to a war-front that was almost certainly lost.

But… from the moment the Prince and the General first met, they recognized something in one another that they both desperately needed; a relentless hunger for victory.

The General, he devised strategies for harder battles, filled up gaps in the army that prevented them from defeating smaller/weaker opponents, came up with tactics for every situation, and pushed every single soldier towards the best that he could be.

The Prince, for the first time in too long, flanked on all sides by an army finally worthy of him, led forth his young charges into battle after battle. And, inspired by his steely eyed determination, battle after battle, they emerged victorious.

Together, the Prince and the General, they reined in the younger boys, transforming their anger and frustration into an indomitable spirit of conquest. And, soon, the news spread like wildfire.

The Reds were on the March.

And they were Invincible.

And so, these two, surrounded at last by the fine young soldiers that they themselves had created, marched on towards their common goal. For the first time in too long, both for the General as for the Prince, Victory awaited.

[So, this hug. After a difficult battle.
“Thank you.. for winning that.”, said the General to his Prince.
The Prince shook his fair head and smiled nobly in return, “No.. Thank you.”
..
And not so far away, a lonely Victory shivered beautifully in her tower of glass, even as the men who had abducted her all these years ago stood ready for the final onslaught.
“My Steven and Brendan will come”, she whispered. And even though the men holding her captive laughed and mocked her, you could hear the fear in their voices.

Because they too had heard of the men in that army. The unstoppable Suraez. The faster than lightening Sterling. The always on target Sturridge. The mage-like Coutinho. The frightening Skrtel. And a whole bunch of other soldiers who only got stronger and better and faster with every day.

An army of red, led by two determined men.

Victory was rightfully theirs.]

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Excerpt from Is Se Pahale Ke Bevafaa Ho Jaayein (By Ahmed Faraz)

“Is se pehle ke bevafaa ho jaayein
kyon na ai dost hum juda ho jaayein?
tu bhi hiire se ban gaya patthar
hum bhi kal kya se kya ho jaayein”
– By Ahmed Faraz
Translation:

Before that day we become disloyal
why not, my friend, go our separate ways
you also turned from a jewel to stone
i too will change to another tomorrow

To Read More, visit: http://www.egothemag.com/urdupoetry/archives/2005/11/is_se_pahale.html

The Lost Spy

I used to be someone else at one point of time, she remembered thinking, a few seconds before she picked up her brush to smoothen out her hair. Her fiance hated it if her hair was all messy, as was its natural state of existence.

I used to be someone else.

We all were, whispered back the creepy old mirror he had insisted she keep, even though she’d tried to tell him about how it watched her at night. He’d simply laughed at her, and she had gotten nearly hysterical explaining to him the things it said to her. In her voice. When she had said that, he’d stopped laughing. But, the gleam in his eyes made him seem a hundred times happier, as if she had just told him that she was carrying his heir. Then a cloud blotted out the light from the sun, and she realized with a start that his eyes were hollow again. Hollow, like they had been the first time she’d met him, when he had wrapped his bleeding, broken fingers tightly around her narrow, chafed wrist, and begged her to let him die. She stood, frozen, and he watched her, curious now. Then she sniffed, and he was beside her in a moment. “Have I upset you? There, there. Don’t cry. You don’t have to keep it. I’ll take it back to my mother’s.”  And, glad that the spell was broken, she glared at him, informed him that she wasn’t crying, and stubbornly half-dragged the cursed mirror all the way back to her room.

At least some things stayed the same.

Like her hair, for instance, which was refusing to behave in any manner remotely lady-like. Sighing, she tied up the loose strands with a ribbon, her thoughts suddenly, and nervously, wandering to the man she never thought about anymore. The one who drank her up with his eyes so hard, fast and deep that there was  no longer anything left of her for all these hungry beasts. And they knew it, which is why they hated him. But they punished her for it all.

You, you have always been you. Even a thousand years before we ever met, she thought fervently, even as the doors to her bedroom chamber opened. She whipped around, trying not to look guilty.

He always knew.

Hours later, when he had finally fallen asleep, temporarily convinced of her loyalty and satisfied with her adulation, she would crawl to the narrow window and pray to the moon. The Moon, which was the only thing that had stayed constant in her long and insipid life. Everything was colorless. And, the only thing that broke the monotony of the gray was the color of blood, splashed across everything  that she had ever held dear to her.

They would pay, she thought bitterly, but quietly.

Quietly, because he always knew.

And he must never know you.

All the Words in the World

Sometimes, the brighter words desert me
and only the gray ones remain,
Yes, blood is the color of loyalty,
but, betrayal is it’s middle name.
Sometimes, the good times are forgotten
and I go back to reading the edges of your wall
Back to back, on different planets,
I slowly watched the last star fall.

You know, the war is over; you can keep
your precious snow-covered territory
And I will recall what it was like to sleep
in the ghost of a distant memory.
How naive of me, to think you weren’t the same
especially when it came to the cold.
And this is the exile I serve in your name
when I ran out of reasons not to fold.

But, of all the things that are gone from me
I miss most the warmth that fought despair
And in the edges of shadows that arise from the dark
My ghost might still admit to care.
But, I pity your new mortal form
And our synchronized fall from grace
and for all the words that were never said
and that look upon your face.

But, where I once drowned in sorrow
I now arise from ashes, in disdain
You made your choices in the brightest ink
and I watch them run in the falling rain.
And the words I was going to use,
to explain the depths I’ve seen
They walk away, in quiet disappointment;
echoing, you shall never know what we mean.

Deja Vu?

Except for the fact that
I know there is no way
that I’ve ever been
so far down here
ever before.

When I
was a whole
lot older & wiser,
I thought it would be
all over,
by now,
at least.

Apparently, someone has
other plans, that do not
involve any sort of
rest or respite.
And I can’t
tell if the
water
rises
or
I
shrink.

Either, and any way,
how long can you
keep anyone
down here?

Whether sooner
or later,
I am going to
breathe.

Or maybe, I
have already
arrived at Hell,
and just can’t tell
anything anymore,

Quiet Winters

I walk around the block in silence
the souls of my sneakers, quiet;
even as the Earth groans
in whispered agony,
and I try not to
think of home.

There was a joke in here someplace
but now, all I see are dark alleys
and dimly lit street corners
full of familiar shadows.

I could make my way back to your window
I could find you with my eyes closed
And hands tied behind my back
But, what for?

I walk around this silence in dire defiance
dodging skeptics and opportunists
Do you all really think
this little of me?

If I could be bought, I’d have long been sold
In the heart of winter, mine hides, cold
When I swore loyalty, I meant
the kind that I knew would
leave me howling
at your grave.