The old man and the Ganges

vikas chandra

Askance there stood a faded figure against the bloodshot twilight skies
Seeped in abysmal kindling psalms, distanced from the worldly artifice
As he pored on his murky silhouette gently caressed by the stream flowing by
Ganges, the mother of nirvana, touched upon his weary soul with a muffled sigh
“My child! Thou lastly here, at the confluence of dawn, fall and renaissance
Awaited you and your surmises and impasses on life, death and sublime penance”

“Consumed in life, its endless lure while tied to figments of false grandeur
With a starving soul in my lost conscience that knocks the door of the inner core
I measured life in days and hours as I dwelled in the lust of eternity
Whilst a forgotten spirit inside repulsed and spurned my boundless vanity
As a war of two conflicting worlds pervades my besieged existence
Futility of life and fear of demise, hound my…

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