Drums pulled tight, the dough hums
most articulately when taut skin and
taught hands meet amidst a chorus of
peacocks. There, melt life’s iron ledger,
and should it please the Lord, forge the
blade which cuts delusion. Brandishing
the un-dulled sword of indelible truth,
advance within your mind, and slay the
five tyrants. This is what it takes to
sing the song a Singh ought to sing.
_____
Nihal Singh