| Amaita You stood as still as the great oak tree In the fine tranquil summer Yet your eyes did not stop beaming Wild as the blazing fire in the dark The sunrays refracted on your untamed chestnut hair Sliding random like liquid cat eyes Expressing the uniqueness The pride of the race Your perfect build was earned from the Endless bloodshed in hell Which even the most exquisite armor Like a mere thin layer of ice Could not hold the fire inside The ruthless years had blunted your sensitivity Of the long lost primitive instinct The only thing that ever remained in your conscience Was the moribund cries of the lives that ended in your strong hands Fate never gave you long term peacefulness............. |