He who hears, the echoes, of that realm
Where lies the end, of the mortal chase
Ascends domain, appeasements overwhelm
For the aching souls, who seek solace

He tills the patch, of spirits forlorn
Called, Soul Whisperer, lone hope, for those
Bereft to the core, besides to mourn
Subsist on a quest, which death bestows

“My child Allen, how his little soul fares
Tell him, afar times, he still, Mama’s joy”
“Like a moon in clouds, o’er vale of tears
Content, requited, thy blue-eyed boy”

Beset with dins, from the world beyond
He raises, soul-crops, in his farms
Himself, hounded, that haunted vagabond
By forsaken aches, hailed with open arms

The depth of truths, the weight of lies
He poises betwixt the twain, his decrees
A liar blessed, who soothes the sighs
A truth-sayer obsessed, hard to appease

His day that began with dark, now ends
With dawn, the sage, now roosts on vanquished pain
At bliss betwixt two realms, as he transcends
Mortal bounds, to immortal world, time and again

© 2015 Vikas Chandra