Kurukshetra

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Kurukshetra

Sonnet

For two score years and more this war
Staged within bounds of a human frame
Effacing all but the trace of a name
Sparing no part mine without a scar.

The chariot of thought upon the fallen goes,
Mine own becomings felled and bloodied,
The naive past is now assuredly buried,
Am now borne solely on the soul’s urges.

The wearied limbs have known no pause,
No friendly clasp from a familiar hand
In this field of war on a forlorn land
Where all is caught in anguished grimace.

This Kurukshetra I must battling ride
With only Krishna and His counsel by my side.