After serving our frontiersBraving the seasons, Braving the weather, Waging a battle, He returns homeA 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 in the hunt of job. 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 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, it is 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 but remain the same. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

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