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Rated: E · Prose · Emotional · #1568128
The tribute we can pay to our life is to live to be remembered by remotely related
The time to look back has come.
But, it is not to rejoice at the victories
Or repent over the wounds sustained;
It is to see how best we could fight the battle out,
To reconnaissance how close the fight was
And if it was in conformity with our long deliberated plan,
To evaluate the norms we had set for ourselves
And the level of compliance,
To judge if we were so frivolous and silly
As to change our value parameters frequently
To secure a place in the winsome bandwagon, or,
If we were so obdurate, obstinate and impervious
To the changes of seasons, iconosing ourselves,
And rue over when time rolls us down
Chipping off whit by whit
What we ourselves should have done.
In a battle… any battle for that matter,
A few battle it out;
The rest endeavor to eschew injury.
Everybody expects to win laurels at someone else’s expense.
The brave shall always fight
And the weak always design.
If success aligns itself with the foul to defile the fair,
Let it. Nothing is lost sans material gains.
History has its own phases of the moon;
The silver crescent is not far behind the new moon.
Laurels and legends spring like scars
Only on a battle-charred body.
If one could occupy few bytes of memory
Of the succeeding generations…
He has done it…
No matter what had befallen him!
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