The Battle Of Poets Poem by Navarun Mallick

A young and talented virtuoso was he,
Well versed in the poetic arts.
Before him did the clouds of ignorance flee,
Such was his enchanting craft.

A singer of divine songs was he,
It was as if God sat on his throat.
He would speak of wonders we only dare dream,
Boulders would cry, such was his prose.

Enter the learned master of logic,
An expert in etymology and semantics.
He would take the philosophy offered to him,
And show its logic, beautiful yet grim.

They both were more than a match for each other,
Both had a hunger to best one another.
It was natural that one day they both would meet,
As the very earth trembled beneath their mighty feet.

They were now adversaries on the field of war,
And yet they humbly bowed to reach out.
The master of logic said, "Thou'lt begin, brother,
By singing the praises of thy God."

The master of divinity concurred,
And began to sing his song.
His words were perfect, not a pause too long,
As he spoke, a miracle appeared to occur.

He sang of his love for his beloved God,
He sang of how it came to pass.
How he yearned to see the nod,
Of the One, who served the mass.

He sang of today's war of words,
And why he wasn't really afraid to lose.
For his God had all his words heard,
And He would rightly the winter choose.

The master of logic now stood up,
And calmed himself with a deep breath.
The master of divinity sipped from his teacup,
As the master of logic spoke of life and death.

Life is God; so is death,
One was bliss, the other was not.
So is God life, or is He death?
For both are not the same at all.

What is God; how did He form?
Is God just a human fancy?
What does God mean; is it the same as the norm?
Why does He hate the humans' necromancy?

The master of logic did not stop,
As God became the object of his deconstruction.
He started off mildly from the top,
But he slowly reached the roots by his insurrection.

His words continued will into the evening,
As his vast knowledge was revealed.
The divine singer now, in front of this king,
Seemed like an infant who whelped and squealed.

"Bravo! Wonderful! ", The people celebrated,
For they had witnessed the master of logic.
The master of divinity returned home defeated,
And decorated his bed with roses and tulips.

As he slept a weary sleep,
God did slowly from the heavens descend.
The people's laurels, the master of logic would keep,
But for God, the divine singer won in the end.