Crimson Red

The darkness in the midst of the white snow,
Lay the Master and his foe,
For once shall they seek the pride,
Dream that they will, before their final ride.

And the skies soared with eternal roar,
Brothers they were, before the war,
Too late, the greed left the nasty scar,

Bugles played their best, before they lay their enemies to rest,
Masqueraders punished, traitors stoned,
Women raped, kids guillotined,
Filth and rats in the streets galore,
Darkness shall play when the dawn bemoan.

For, He has mistaken his identity, serenity is nothing but a rarity,
Origins were doubted and hence the destiny, Not once will it be claimed a victory.

Norwegian Blue Parrot

Nope - this blog is not dead yet. Neither did it go to meet its maker.
It is just ruminating about all the things in life.
It shall sprout up with life soon(read 'few days'), for it cannot be idle.