Harpreet Chhachhia

To R. P.

The moon has gone through her phases, so have I,

So has life, so has the World around me;

I’ve watched Friendship flower, wither and die –

First day; now it is Night that surrounds me.

In phases, they came – who chose to be friends;

In phases, they went, are going, shall go;

In short, everything, that matters, ends –

Our link’s, perchance, caught in this undertow…

But our link isn’t strained, let alone ended,

Come, let us make most of this happy night.

In Woe or Fear were you not befriended:

Our flower still blooms, unwary of Blight.

Hope and Love bless the smiles of you and me;

And, perchance, forever shall we happy be.

19 December, 2007.

The forces were ready. War was calling.

The eyes held winter while spring was falling.

The elves shone in their armour, their swords gleamed,

And dwarves marched, along the sun as it beamed.

Edain houses strode in valour and song;

Folk of all free peoples came, brave and strong.

Though some had stayed away, courage raced through

Each heart, set with hope that then seemed so true.

True so, too, fell the Prophecy of Doom,

That most had shunned with the first rising Moon,

Though none now knew who were the numbered dead

They wept unnumbered tears ere they were shed.

4 July 2007

(This was written for an RP that I wanted to join.)

I walk toward Doom and all before me is dark;

There is nothing between me and this wheel of fire.

All these flames are cold; there burns not even one spark

That can light this ambivalent destiny’s pyre.

An ally has borne me across these miles of strife

But the one has haunted even his quiet might

And all that comes to last of his and my life

Is a hope: bereft of reason and out of sight.