They had nothing to give
To their motherland
Except their mortal lives
So they gave it cheerfully
Without a second thought
To see her wrinkled smile

These road on which we stand today
Were built upon layers of stone
And skulls of warriors great
This freedom wasn’t free
Of cost. Their debt we must pay.
Each and every day.

Two brothers fought
None won
Both lost
Freedom exacted a dear cost

As the clock struck twelve
On that August day
From heaven the martyrs cried
Their dream
Their struggle
For which they died
Was finally realized

The dawn was breaking
It was history in making
The charkha of time had turned
After so many years
A nation was waking
Up

I'm not your stepping stone

a safe and easy ride

to pastures fresh and green

on the other side

why should you stay dry

while I sink with the tide

you want to go that's fine

build a bridge

and then we'll see

but don't you ever tread on me

I want the love for who I am
And ought
To be
Free of yours for me

I find the river when I am kept awake by thoughts of you, and

at the railing, despite the numbing grip of wrought iron, I can see her

surface ripple in the winter wind, and I watch as the undercurrent

appears to churn and switch back in the twilight, unpredictable,

unknowable, a breadth and impulse powerful, resistant, and when

her path is curbed, finding her own way in a tumult of discovery

I don't want to follow your footsteps

with my two left feet in my two wrong shoes

If I take a path it's the one I will choose

my steps are my own

and I'll walk for a bit

maybe I'll find some shoes that will fit!