With
slain sculls in hand, dry blood soaked,
She
stands, and the grief seems end in glee,
She
wonders if she knows enough in this land,
To
be bold, at the edge of eliminating evils,
A
wind of defeating all waring dacoits out of trolls,
It
brings October night cool upon her shoulders.
Lord
Shiva lies calm beneath her, a sail from sea
Resembling
peace around the world, on the turf.
A
patch of many evils fallen from mind’s inside
That
flows beneath reality, arrogant in red eyes,
Her
countering red eyes places a balanced wind,
To
be the way on the track of normal stream,
To
defeat anxiety, to establish forgiveness and
Peace,
giving all the way to introduce seamless stride,
Like
the sage of healing spirit, inside dust-free mist.
perfect rhyming.
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