Uproars galore in the cage of souls, how life redeems the price of poise
For a menagerie of “sane” souls outside, a far-flung clamor, gamely evaded
Are they lesser broods of God, if not, then why He toys?
With subdued spirits, destined to futility, bare paraded
In angst dissolved, solemnity of man, solemn though, a distanced view of world
Asylum né madhouse for some, where spent souls stroll thru unending span
In chase of what? Sanity? How to discern, what is what, with a notion blurred?
A sordid tale sketches every soul, for cultures to seclude an insane clan
A loss profound that stole an age, alas, lost in past, an aging man
A refuge to qualms, penance, insolence, moans and yelps, an inevitable quicksand
Who they belong to? They shoulder each other, while nowhere goes their caravan
Entrapped castaways, wild pigeons, can’t just flutter away, with iron walls to withstand
From a squalid yard, as layer by layer, arise, riotous voices of despair
“O’ Lord, what lies beyond the endless plight? What to fight with this feeble might?
Stuck in a moment of regret, done many times over with life’s affair
How to recollect? Seek “sane” folks’ aid? Their bark is worse than their bite!”
Chaste as child, innocent but wild, in His kind refuge, these souls exiled
Asylum! Shouldn’t be a madhouse, but a shrine of share and care
Where compassion prevails over lunacy, and souls reconciled
To the truth of life and the heart hallowed with a sublime prayer
© 2015 Vikas Chandra