Bravehearts - 3

Matriarchs, distant.

Lion cubs clinging to Gran,

drifting with Sarsa...

Two juveniles watch it all,

roaring before it all fades.

A small cortege moves.

Under Thy aegis, O Light, 

forty bravehearts.

Aggrieved, ruffled and angered, 

entourage reaches Chamkaur.

Another sundown. 

Rehraas resounds in Chamkaur, 

song of thanks in heart. 

Thee caresses tired spirits, 

fondly lulling them to sleep. 

Enemies arrive

Sons, soldiers synonymous,

handful against lakhs.

Dawn descends, the war begins.

Brazen, bloodsoaked battlefield.

Decked as bridegrooms,

dapper, dauntless, two tadpoles,

seeking Thy blessings.

Thee ushers to arena,

proud today, pleased, gratified.

Thee watches from post,

tiny swords, slicing tyrants,

Thee watches them fight,

watches as arrows pierce them,

watches as the sun sets twice.

No tears are shed here.

Ever thankful, Thee sings hymns,

His glories resound.

Thine seedlings, returned to Thee,

Thy grace be, this isn't defeat.