In casts of clay, how love renders
The joy of earth, and the bliss of sky
In wispy souls, which mayhem stirs
The restless hearts, that underlie!

What a better way, to love and long
Than chirp out heart, against a thorn
And live to death, that purest song
Thru lost cities, wastelands forlorn!

I hear them faint, though very clear
Since bygone days, of innocence
When roosted, in my heart, austere
Their labors of love, not senescence!

Yet, I watch them, thru many rebirths
Immortal shades of, white and gray
With broken wings, unbroken mirths
Being Sparrow, is no child’s play!

© 2017 Vikas Chandra