This yearning, to be, one with you
Shall last beyond, your myriad falls
Lest death kisses, my breaths adieu
And you die out, of my heart’s recalls!

How sublime, is my misery
Like the insolence, of the touch-me-not
Why seeks my heart, love’s penury
Thru spring’s glory, and autumn’s rot!

The moor that cradled, nonchalance
Of a mortal saint, immortal bard
Seems lost in, endless dalliance
Amid sin’s orchard, and joy’s boneyard!

Who lives not, but to die, some day!
I die each day, to pay life’s toll
Lest a longing’s lost, in two worlds’ melee
Scatter Me O’er The Moorland’s Soul!

© 2018 Vikas Chandra