THE CANDLE IN THE WIND

( This writing is dedicated to the beloved of every fearless martyr, who, like a candle, melts herself in the greatest of sacrifice and faith, in the hope of keeping the flame resting on her soul, the life and pride of her man, glow unto eternity )

The last of those rays pierced the air,

Birds swaying to the daffodils song,

The setting sun held a rare affair,

Skies swept and swam along,

Like waters dressed in a velvet white,

Embracing upon, like a royal shell,

To cloak the sun in its fading bright,

But despairing within, time could tell,

That the dawn, in arrival, was but far,

Sunset it was, of a soldier’s walk,

Into darkness yonder, the Twilight of War,

A stallion’s footprints, left to mark,

As his lady stood at an intimate height,

With restless hopes, never content,

Of praying through the sleepless night,

To wait unto his dawn, faith unbent.

Courage seeped through flesh and vein,

And stirred within, a million dreams,

Iron heart, never rested in vain,

Prayers etched on the deepest realms.

A knight's march in the armor of glory,

Pride, enthroned in his lady's bosom,

A portrait it was, of the grandest story,

Painted with sacrifice, only love could blossom,

As, destiny, she scripted, held its awe

Head held high in a wind of trust,

Trust laid on the miracle of Love,

That time in eternity would never rust.

On the land of war, twinkled his sword,

Spirit roaring in a wondrous high,

As he saw his angel, lighting his heart,

The battle echoed its gallant call,

He bowed to her Glory, her Sacrifice.