Sitting atop the world
Crescent moon at his feet,
This blue-skinned boy
Looking contemplative
Blows his golden conch
Ready to do battle
His goal,
Destroy the wicked
Protect the innocent
And establish
A new world order
Will
His upcoming crusade
Be a victory for Dharma
Once again?
© 2017
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem