War and bruises, battles and scars,
The hope of returning home fades further.
But Home is where the palaces are,
The stone-cold walls and luxury calls?
Every soldier here, big or small,
Has someone to return to, Someone to hold on.
Me? Their leader, a prince at war,
My home is further away than she appears.
There she sits, on the marble stairs,
Singing to her Beloved,
Soothing people who come to hear.
The only heart she can't calm is this,
For with every lyric, a flood of pain engulfs it.
Yet I find myself lost in her thoughts
Feeling emotions raw and undeciphered.
Her touch is healing, pure and holy
Her words pierce through my soul
Touches me in places only she can mould.
I find myself at her door every night
But destiny is cruel, my life its prey,
I have given up this fight.
For in my soul is a temple shrine
She is the God, my beloved divine.
In her soul, someone else resides
He, her blue-skinned, mischievous cowherd.
Neither of us knows how reciprocation feels
Yet we both know the divine reality
This love is enough for us three.
~ Suranya
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