What’s end, but a blessing, that stays alive
In the hearts, of those, who count it so
On the soul of fall, does spring revive
The seeds of hope, which sorrows sow

He left, I thought, then, saw, gazing me
His eyes, in wonder, his ageless dream
Like a riotous tide, on the face of still sea
Raise fortitude’s flag, against the stream

“Won’t you outlast, my lost conquests?
Won’t my name outlive, my broken chase?
In you, still shall grow, my lasting bequests
For ‘I ain’t dead yet’, written all over your face”

I did burn him, by the Ganges, as he wished last
Lingered alone, on his ashes, saw a monument sag
Then felt unfurl, from a spirit downcast
Me fluttering, by his unscathed mast, my father’s flag

© 2016 Vikas Chandra