The Hollow Triumph Poem by ashok jadhav

The banners fall with color faint and dim,
The crowd erupts, yet in my chest is still
A hollow echo of what I have done.
The feats they cheer were carved with sweat and blood,
But do they honor what I truly sought?
The path I walked seemed noble in the sun,
Yet now its meaning wavers in the shade.
I think of those I could not shield or save,
Of friends and strangers lost along the way.
Does triumph count if hearts lie broken still,
If praise is shallow, hollow, and misplaced?
The sword feels heavy, though its edge is bright,
And every laurel weighs upon my soul.
Perhaps the worth of glory lies not here,
Not in applause, nor in the fleeting gaze.
It lives in choices made when none observe,
In courage borne in quiet, unseen hours.
And though the world may crown the deed I did,
I seek the truth that rises from within.