My Quiet Attic


What holds the heart, to fly up high?
Never air, though fetters of the slumber
Where soul snuggles, on a soothing sigh
Come forlorn fall, or sweet December

How moments, melt down, in the loft
Watching flocks of, vistas change
Have marveled through, my spirits oft
What’s left of me now, to estrange

From myself, oh, my heart and soul
Are now, one with, the holy retreat
A redeemed captive, on Lord’s parole
To hit the sweet, “Redemption Street”

How sublime, the creed, of this cozy patch
Where time stops by, to clasp and kiss
An awe-struck soul, below a, humble thatch
Can’t help, but thaw, in aplomb’s, surreal bliss

The scents of cedar, the wood of love
I see thru my nostrils, the tree that died
To heave my world, so far above
On shoulders of Goliath, David’s lofty ride

From the embers of dark, the day does rise
Strews the hues of glory, of sun’s conquest
In the lap of nature, does the Lord baptize!
The dreams of splendor, in a weary breast

As the day marches, over time’s decay
In my attic, grows a song, from child’s rhyme
To bloom once more, on who turns gray
A man, who left life, on borrowed time

As night descends, to walk solitary shadows
And on grave of sun, moon strays lunatic
Reaps dreams, my heart, in blazing meadows
Cradles my soul, solace, in my quiet attic

© 2015 Vikas Chandra

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