The Story of Keepers

As rays of the sun drop the veil, of yet another dawn... the gushing river gleams to find its source and treads its journey towards the the sea.

With every passing day.. iron smith moulds a horse shoe,

He imparts his soul into the blades of the sword.

The stable keeper … caresses.. the ride.

Farmer sows his love to reap grains and fodder,

Mines may bring you gold , but without mother..nature what use is that gold that can not help you stand tall.

All that they do isn’t a ritual they are born into..

All they care isn’t for worship or food..

Their might merely looks upon that day..

that one day you are waiting for , for that one day, when you wear your armour, embrace your sword...

on that day when sun guides you through the light..and

As the wading sun casts the veil back on the dusk .

What makes sure you make it through the dusk to the pole star ??

It is gratitude than runs in your blood, the armour you adorn, the blessings you are endowed with.

they wait for you to look across the isle, and bow, to acknowledge their worth .

and if you forget or leap through the bounds of their glory and love..

Dawn and dusk though night apart are known by the veil, and perching birds in the sky ..

Those bystanders,are nonetheless a reminder ..

if you breach the conduct with your might

they shall witness it.. and as you engage in your journey..they may help you evade scars but not penance.

While they shall prepare yet another sword and sow more because for them sun never wades and thus dawn doesn’t discern for the existence of dusk.