The Luminaries

Myth is that a loser written history
In which you could only find great defeats

Worth more than a thousand lustreless victories

And you may come across people died for a cause 

Whom you hesitate to call martyrs

They are names unknown 

But their slayers are well remembered and 

You might even know their names


No textbooks inscribe their stories

No poets compose lyrics on them

No squares are named after them

No monuments are erected to pay homage to them

They are the unknown citizens

They are the lost causes

Like fallen foliages they decay to become a compost

Like prop roots they always support the tree


They are the helpless common folk who lost their lives in the oppressive autocracy

They are the mass who allowed the leader to speak up

They are the soldiers who fought great battles and died unrecognised 

They are the common workforce who built the great cities

They are the farmers who alleviated the hunger of the country

They are the ordinary citizens who loved their country and made it prosper

They are the invisible pillars that underpin the heft of the visible history

They are the inevitables in every history


Yet they are nowhere to be seen in the history

You cannot find them no matter how meticulous you are

For history is built upon their humble tombs

Under this onus they sleep without the pressure of being recognised

Fame never sojourned in their hovels

Glory never glanced at their plight

Yet they seemed content because

They are the luminaries

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