WARRIOR

WARRIOR

In the very dark corner,
When I heard him chant,
On the very first day, I said," What a fool!”
That very corner, every day and the other,
When I heard him rant,
Gradually, I felt, "What a cool.”
That very corner, now when he goes,
I now hear him preach.
I somewhat understand what he feels-a necessary tool.

The facets of life, when it unfolds,
You reason the nonsense you earlier discarded.
The traces of bygone, which still hold,
You reckon the reason—not so hard.

You, when questioned, all that was vain,
Might be due to so few you knew.
Now, when all you feel is recurring pain,
Give a plausible space for a rational view.

The elderly now no longer weeps,
Sure do the spots beneath his eyes.
The lone and lost, he stays,
Waits for another loss while he defies.
For he knows not to quit,
Neither break, in daylight or heat.
But when he does, preaches in the dark.
I now no longer pass him a scoff,
But rather, I follow what he quotes
In that very dark corner,
Away from broad daylight when he chants.
While distant company I offer,
Ends up, more than he does, I am one who rants.