In a cradle, with a broken beat
I sway to the heights, of my misery
Like a serpent straying, in dark street
Ends in cul-de-sac, of a spent frenzy!

It ain’t just a happening, that you call ‘sleep’
But a tryst with soul, oe’r dream’s orgy
In the farm of heart, pain learns to reap
New yields of hope, from olden spree!

We stared at each other, me and my night
“O! How I die to have, those forty winks”
“Nor I had either!” she told her plight
From the chalice of life, death who drinks!

How sublime, this toil, from dusk to dawn
Of chasing moon, drenched in despair
Be the substance, of the song of the swan
In the midst of, life’s deathly affair!

© 2017 Vikas Chandra