An Armed Guard

After serving our frontiers-
Braving the seasons,
Braving the weather,
Waging a battle,

He returns home-
With an iron box of dreams,
The warts of wars,
A cartload of memories.

The gales are now over
But life is not yet over.
Growing family, stark realities,
Once again he is on the job hunt.

Sometimes as a clerk
Often as an Armed Guard,
He begins his second innings,
He reaches a different inn.

Once again he carries his gun
Once again he wears a uniform.
The dales are the same
But the role is now different.

Under his nose, his frontiers are fine,
Under his belt, the counters are safe.
He is always a dutiful guard,
Even at night, the vault is under his surveillance.

And he too retires one day
The hues of that evening slowly fade.
From the gales of roaring decades,
He now retreats to his native air.

But where are those pleasant dales?
I have often seen - a sad tale.
Hurricane lanterns witness his silent hours,
The paradoxes of life present the same theme.

Thus he crosses his last frontier,
He is now one with the timeless space.
Beyond the rustling wind, beyond the veiling mist
The psalms of life remain the same.
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