White Cloud

Beyond a stray, over the vales
What’s it to be, a naught abhorred
From a realm, where worthiness, prevails
I gaze in, awe, an absurd world!

How I die, to be, a murky mass
Of dust, and drops of, life’s mystique
My barren womb, ever-aches alas
To be blackest, in the billows’ clique!

Whereas below; man’s privileged place!
Where whiteness, is a worshipped awe
Of all charades, of human race
Man’s color, is his, deepest flaw!

To yearn against, my destiny’s choice
Is not, how’d life, be reconciled
May paradoxes, of two worlds, rejoice!
When I soothe the soul, of a scorched black child!

© 2017 Vikas Chandra

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