Eclipse

Just because he was losing,

Didnt mean he had lost.

Didnt mean he would lose.

Didnt mean he'd give up.

His faith, was unshaken,

His strength, unbreakable.

And his eyes,

Shone with a determination, unfathomable.

But his fate had eclipsed him,

Destiny, had eluded him,

And although he didnt believe in luck,

Bad luck engulfed him.

He was racing against time,

Racing against the Invincible,

Trying to wipe it all down,

Something that was inevitable.

He was losing, 

Victory was all but in his hands,

And there was enemy at the gates,

Death, eclipsing all his hopes.

But he couldnt lose hope.

He couldnt give up.

For his was a duty far greater,

Greater even than the bullet,

That was eclipsing his life.

He could hear his Mother calling,

His Motherland needing him,

His duty summoning him.

He couldnt lose.

And as the fast as the clock ticked,

He could feel his life, all draining away.

But he had to gather himself up,

Eclipse his own fate.

A maddening rage fuelled him up,

A rage, that eclipsed all his fears,

And a courage, that built up all his strength.

A spirit, that brought back his determination.

He ceased only when he'd stopped,

Only when he could no longer hear,

His mother screaming for him,

And when, his duty was fulfilled.

Fate caught him, in the end after all.

And although death had eclipsed him,

It wasnt before he had eclipsed death,

And survived, even after having had a fall.

Eraser

I had an eraser once,
An eraser that rubbed off my worries.
With black ink, whatever my thoughts wrote,
It easily cleared them  away.

Black pencils, I had.
Black crayons, as well.
And all the black things I had,
I seldom used them.

For black was all the gloom, I had.
And Red was for all my joy.
And Blue was for the calmness, inside,
White, it just signified the peace, within.

Thus, colours were everything for me.
Colours were my world.
For in colours, I could express myself,
In colours, I could find myself.

But I never worried about that dark, black shade.
For I had my eraser,
My own little triumph over gloom,
My own little way of joy.

Whatever was black,
The eraser rubbed it all off.
Whatever were my worries,
The eraser drove them all away.

That was a time, long ago.
A time when my crayons was I all I cared for,
And gloom was brought upon me,
Only when my pencils were broken.

It was a time, I could cry.
Cry and weep all aloud.
When Mum's arms,
Were my cuddling pillows at night.

But one day, I grew up.
I lost my eraser, somehow.
And all those pencils I had, were gone.
Only the black one remained.

And only the black one remains as now,
The colourful ones all lost.
But I miss the eraser most of them all.
For it brought joy,
Even when black pencils were all I had.

Somehow, someday, sometime, though.
I did grow up.
I managed to leave behind those colours,
And the eraser is lost.