Shall the never twain part, in a liaison profane?
Holding hands and hearts, two tangled souls
Bare tentacles of time, raking over old coals
Scouring sins sublime, poesy and pain

What worth those words, which do not wage?
In a yearning heart, passion’s throbbing vein
Let riots of thoughts, run mad, page to page
Stride on staggering dots, poesy and pain

Won’t they stop by today, those kites, fireflies?
At my lone doorway, my mates of bane
Fiery drops of blood, in ink, baptize
Veiled truths in bare lies, poesy and pain

Thus made God, creed of creativity
In a gilded madhouse, snared the human stain
Could more be brazen, His selectivity?
Married mirth to misery, poesy and pain!

© 2016 Vikas Chandra