Forever rage, in the fury spent
That cages us, in our prejudice
Ain’t being of ours, worth a red cent?
Whose glory, pay we, lip service!
Born with a fistful, of fortune
And a bounty of, blood, sweat and tears
We choose to drag, oblivion strewn
Not live legends, for myriad years!
Ever-lost within, that Holy Grail
We search for, in dust-laden time
In still or storm, who set their sail
Are worth the world’s, prized paradigm!
Why be the dwarfs, in Godly glooms
Is glory, a trial, too hard to bear?
Never happens what, but ever looms
Our greatness, is Our Deepest Fear!
© 2018 Vikas Chandra