How histories end, yet epics endure
The tides of time, their dogged dare
Each age chooses, its savior
From the rituals of, worldly despair!
The fury, of the nameless mob
The labors, of the faceless men
Whose shibboleths make, world’s ethos throb
Whose psalms of pain, sound like “Amen”!
Raking day’s remains, on endless streets
Or a tomb in queues, chasing salvation
That steadfast soul, amongst deadbeats
Who sells his life, to raw passion!
Death ever-dares, to end, mystique
Of the paragon, of banished clan
Ever since, goes on, his stubborn streak
Since time began, that Timeless Man!
© 2017 Vikas Chandra