Beheaded life thrown to dust,
Broken and bathed in blood.
And bruised beyond recognition… Who was he?
The warmth in the dead blood!
Perhaps he was a martyr of love,
Thrown to dust, disfigured and torn.
Yes! He is dead and now I mourn…
Not for his death, but for my life
That could not be laid instead of his…
Come! End this suffering, this endless regret…
My love let me, in your name,
Lay my life and come to grace…
--Rishiraj
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