Don’t you hear, the treads of tiptoed hopes!
That strength of soul, heart’s sigh redeems
Strewn mayhems across, mind’s envelopes
Bear the sublime cross, of, pregnant dreams

How parched could be, the sanctum of solace
Where echo the psalms, of silent screams
Overwhelmed with sins, stands a soul pious
Cradles, the stirring dins, of, pregnant dreams

Where lost were they, so deep within
Where fear ain’t, elsewhere, what it seems
From the womb of lie, breeds a truth akin
For who never say die, are, pregnant dreams

Awe that rainbow, in a rainless sky
Its shades defy, rife reasons’ regimes
When limits, ain’t there, for flying high
On the grave of fear, prosper, pregnant dreams

© 2016 Vikas Chandra