Tara's Raga

The red lava slowly spills down the slippery slope
it begins to charge,
fueled by the constant crackling whip of gravity.
Look how still the lotus blossom sits
her soft-petal limbs are silent in their place.

The on-coming red army continues its frantic pace
ever-widening its gruesome grin
watching as its prey continues to ignore
the spectacle that draws near it from above.

A loud bellow emerges from behind
coaxing the army to move faster
like the hard drums of a Roman legion

She will not move,
nor will she break from her tranquil state.

The rocks themselves line up for her,
they protect her as a last garrison would
protect their queen.
The sweat running from their brows as
the Red Army crashes against them.
Every last man ready to accept a brief
moment of agony.
Better to burn in the name of love, than
to burn eternally in the pits of Hell.

For that is the decision we make every day,
sometimes for better, and sometimes for worse.
What defines a person
is not those moments of tranquility
but in the reaction to those moments
of grief, of turmoil, of righteous indignation.
In those moments when silence is apt,
and a little patience will give you the strength
to overcome the red menace we all face.