As I return, to where I left
Ain’t I, the same, in a life bereft?
Of a drive to drive, beyond the reach
Of yesterdays’ rituals, so hard to breach

Obliged to rise at 5, each day
Some penance is it, or toll to pay
By a man, who bears, a father’s heart
A hubby, a wage slave, can you tell apart?

Treading on mornings thru lost alleys
One amongst the aging faces, matching tallies
One more farewell, to the bus I bid
Which carries my young seed. Alas! Me a lost kid

The breakfast toast, has new blisters today
Unlike mate’s dark circles, on unbroken decay
The dailies do shout, to a deafened, spent man
Whose creed resigned, to scan that layaway plan

Thru the taxi queues to the office gates
Wail weary ways, on endless waits
Same place to work, and lie to self
A pigeon-holed man, rotting off-the-shelf

Beating retreat, the same spineless rebel
Under earning’s spell, every fury to quell
Breadwinner indeed, rules the roost, at nest
Makes love to a dream, over sinking breasts

Yes, the same climax, of a day’s life again
Another coup de grâce, to a spirit on wane
To rise from ash, a halfhearted man born
To be force-fed again, on obligations sworn

Though underneath, lies the unfelt, beauty of it all
As tedium enthralls a man, with a faithless call
It’s a surrogate to futility, obsessions’ mother
Who makes men mad, who better sane be rather

Yes, regurgitated truth, life is, over ages, lives and moments
Why just resent the routine, not value the endowments
It plays on and on, unvanquished, motley tunes, rife
Wished away, yet dished out every day! Monotony! The symphony of life!

© 2015 Vikas Chandra