The Everlasting Melody

There's a melody, both sweet and sour,

Being played in the background

Of the drama - that's slowly, and very

Slowly, unfolding on this stage.

This stage that's enormous

And tiny, all at once.

It's been built with care,

And been weathered by the apocalypse.

Even then, it stands

Like it stood on the first day,

Ready to take the storm on, yet again,

As the melody still plays on...

The play's about to begin now.

Not a single audience in the hall

Sits there with an intent to praise,

Or to refrain from saying- it's a disgrace,

When the warrior finally falls, and

Tears well up in the eyes,

Adorned with bravery; the stage 

Doesn't fall through. It holds

The warrior up, once again, and

Its old wood screams, 'Behold!'

There's a tone of cheer now, in the

Bittersweet melody, that still plays on...

There's a small hole appearing

On the stage, getting bigger each day,

Giving the warrior lesser and lesser

Space, to stand on and pray.

Those who had left long ago, are back;

They are speaking of how this must be the end,

Pretending the warrior doesn't hear them.

Red flowers, picked from lush greenery

Are being thrown at the war-hero's feet,

But those people and their flowers, are

Like the hole that's getting bigger-

As the melody takes on a nostalgic tone...

Time's come to an end -

For the stage is now creaking,

And the one standing on it is

Fully aware that even the survivor

Must meet the end, one day.

Battles won and battles lost -

Engraved in gold on the wood,

With ink that never fades,

Even if the wood might break,

Even if dust and dirt, is what

Remains of the once-mighty stage.

For this melody is always gonna play...