Shiva arrives with Parvati
to pay obeisance
to the victor of the battle.
Among the walls
of the steep mountains,
the victor stands tall
in full glory,
his enormous visage
rising to the skies.
His flowing mane
radiates
with the glory of a thousand
suns,
his blood-stained,
razor-sharp teeth
and nails,
are forged
from the elements
of the darkest chambers of hell–
elements,
so virginal,
they were untouched
by light and other forces of
nature
for eternities.
His deafening roar
splits the heavens in half,
fuses the elements.
From the turbulent waters
emerge
catastrophes,
micro-worlds,
and entire universes.
All the other gods
watch the spectacle
from the safety of their
realms.
Shiva moves closer
towards the mountains.
His ears
are ripped
by the thunderous wrath,
his eyes
are blinded
by the blistering fury,
he fights the torrent of comets
hurtling towards him
with the sheen of his trident,
the projectiles turn to dust–
the ash strewn grounds
and his ash-smeared body
turn cold,
yet his feet
instinctively
start tapping
to the primordial drumbeat
that shakes the earth, the sky,
and all the dimensions in-between.
Shiva manifests
into every beast, monster, demon,
and a combination of all,
to stop the apocalyptic force,
but is decimated
every single time.
Parvati,
unaffected and unscathed
by the chaos,
walks past the exhausted ascetic
into the melting mountains,
into the expansive mirror–
summoned to action
by Shakti herself.
She crosses
the rings of fire,
enters
the domain
of the vanquisher’s blazing aura,
and gently touches his shimmer.
Engulfed
in mother’s love,
the beast
calms down.
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