In the nightfall, of that light
We lingering phantoms, of whose snare
How hollow souls, wipe out and write
With tiny hands, many a, monstrous prayer
In praise of God, who never reads!
Why are we shadows, of our creeds?

Born to a name, a faith, a holy lie
New human flesh, a haunting hope
And what unearths a man, in the chase of that ‘why’?
Through throngs of diktats, a phony God, at the end of his rope!
We choose to be dwarfs, of our sinful seeds
Why are we shadows, of our creeds?

Not one was enough, a dogma, as though
So many, we made, to spend our blood
On the price of God, who does not know
Fanatics are made, of His hallowed mud
Lost make and maker, in our manly deeds
Why are we shadows, of our creeds?

© 2016 Vikas Chandra