Triology - Part 1
Crowned In Fire - A path Observed
A boy was born to broken street,
Where hunger dressed defeat as sweet.
A thousand flags above him flew,
But none he felt were just or true.
The victors sang of peace and right,
While ash still curled beneath his night.
His father roamed unfertile ground,
Their names erased, their fate unbound.
He searched through books, through fractured lore,
Where whispers claimed, "You were much more."
A wound became a sacred claim,
A spark that longed to birth a flame.
No sword had struck, no war declared—
Just ink that made the proud ensnared.
The lions slept, the people bled,
And still the traitors wrote them dead.
From myth and ruin, he took a name,
And made it sermon, vow, and flame.
A cause emerged—first small, then wide—
A purge of rot, a march of pride.
The line was drawn in soul and land,
By blood, by soil, by sharpened hand.
What once was grief, now dressed as fate,
What once was fear, now forged as hate.
Let order rise through smoke and dust,
Let iron rule if laws are rust.
Let those who knelt, forever fall—
One race, one voice, one waking call.
No shame, no doubt—his path was clear,
The ghost that time refused to fear.
A child of loss, a man of flame,
Who carved his truth, and gave it name.
Through cities scorched and silence kept,
Through dreams defiled and graveyards wept—
He watched the world collapse, then laughed,
And left behind—
Mein Kampf.
Copyright © Saankhya Tare | Year Posted 2025
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