Bravehearts - 9

'tis sound of footsteps. 

A hushed and hurried visit. 

Moti brings them milk,

in the odd dark midnight hours.

Love, faith, over Mogul food. 

Another sunrise.

Through gossamer veil of dawn, 

radiance trickles. 

The citadel is alive 

with choral resonant chants. 

Princely, they enter

the ominous Court compound. 

wickedly they're poked, 

kindled with false, bitter words, 

called anarchists, rebel birds. 

Crisp wounds from the whip, 

they both heartily endure. 

Resolute brethren, 

brave hawks, they pledge before Court. 

Loud, their promise to settle score. 

Holy priests opine,

death sentence for such rebels. 

Brick them both alive, 

decreed today by tyrants. 

Hearts of audience lament. 

And thus they return 

again to the Cold bastion,

where Gran's warm hugs wait. 

Swollen and exuding wounds, 

embalmed with prayers attuned.