A soul baptized, in twilight’s blood
A pilgrim, to the netherworld
Whose mystique is, as clear as mud
And psalms of bliss, to sin, tethered!
Whose chalice is, a manic moon
Which spills over, a spent Mozart
The realm below, can’t help, but swoon
To the lullaby, of a widow’s heart!
A million wolves, wail in unison
Oe’r scarred soul, of the sighing moor
The dreams sown, by this liaison
Is the misery, hungering hearts endure!
How sublime, is this shadows’ reign
Ennui, lit up, like a Christmas tree
Behold stark and dark, her legerdemain
Of human stain, Each Night’s A Poesy!
© 2017 Vikas Chandra