When time roosted, on the grave, of a race
And gazed two tramps, yet again, face to face
In the endless drift, of time-bound sins
Where ends a clan, new age begins

The same man lingers, in the cusp of time
Who was born to be, its reckless mime
Holds onto bygones, petty child of fate
And weighs his love, by the balance of hate

And it won’t return, how long the wait
May yearnings pay, its price ornate?
The time that died, at the tomb of past
Was the pawn cherished, till the die was cast!

Immortal ain’t, the creed of spells
And time keeps busy, sounding death knells
Tiny tolls add up, to a lasting cost
And man sinks down, in a moment lost

© 2016 Vikas Chandra