Pritha's pomes

Some rhyme, romance and a wee bit reason maybe, bear with me ?

1 Comment

The Sentinel

It towered over me in all its glory,

A monolith that seemed to guard the skies.

Humbled by this edifice I stood in awe,

Of a Sentinel, whose silence could drown a million cries.

Quiet and strong it let the winds of change,

Cut crevices deep and myriad cracks, on its wall.

Nature in all her fury, tested her might, and yet,

The Sentinel seemed to withstand every fall.

With reverence that came from the gods,

Could vanity be too far behind?

The Sentinel knew it wielded power

To invoke fear both far and wide.

A child’s play, one day, with  a few stones and dirt,

Amused the Sentinel till it could laugh no more.

Said, it to the little pyramid of rocks,

Are you here to settle some old puny score?

The minuscule stone edifice just stood its ground,

And quietly answered the monolith tower,

How can we even stand your glance,

When your eyes have been blinded by divine power?

That night there rose a a tempest wild,

When bolts of lightning played with the cruelest thunder

When every crevice on the mighty Sentinel,

Knew its time had finally come to fall asunder.

As the blue skies returned the next morn

They saw the Sentinel; now a broken tower,

A few yards away, a gleaming hillock of rocks

Seemed like the desert’s quiet edifice of power.

As I walked way from the towering glory

Of a monolith that once guarded the skies,

The little stone hillock by my foot,

Nudged me to live each day,  with slightly, less blinded eyes.