The silent pictures hanging
in vivid flashes of black and white;
A hundred fading figures
of a million epic tales.
Each beautiful moment, frozen in a frame
--- a snapshot of a timeless jewel;
Even that time when darkness reigned,
images were bound with iron hold.
The torture of the oppressed and
remains of a battlefield,
are as worthy of a reminiscent
as the parade of the victor
when the beacon was ignited.
The cries of a fallen soldier,
the scars of the lone survivor,
holds as much significance as
the union of two old lovers and
birth of one new fighter.
Thy banner be waving in war or in glory,
A flag caging the flames or unleashing the fire,
Fall hard to the doom and bounce back even higher
--- it's all preserved for the eye of the beholder.
When the day comes and my mind fogs,
My mind filled with forgotten stories,
The photographs in my wall,
Will have these chronicles reborn.