Copyright © 2009 Ernest Bloom (20090508).
No birds take flight over the plains below,
where our tribes and notions are destined soon
to clash. The faltering night has lost its cold.
Astride my war chariot in the predawn I survey
the battlefield, secure in my heart with full knowledge
that perseverance is more than mere endurance, and
faith is the currency exchanged between the Atman
and the phenomenal world. And although now
brother must slay brother and the fields flood
more red than poppies, and any of us, and
many of us must be fated to meet no more in
this life those we hold most dear, yet I yearn to be
as a great arrow of yew pulled back, pulled far back
on the bow of Brahma. I yearn to accomplish
duty that I may not conceive, for now I perceive
this is the distinction between persevering and
enduring, and to this end, to this immediate
end, I commit my soul in full.
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