The Return To Self

Had strewn myself, like rosary beads
O’er squandered psalm, of existence
Those forlorn dreams, and dreary deeds
Was never me, by any sense!

How many miles, this rolling stone
Shall measure life, in distances
Those hamlets known, yet unbeknown
Are tombs of, my vagrant romances!

The world spent me, my soliloquy
Whilst I chased on, a flirty dream
That rite of death, life’s entreaty
Which one, do I, now redeem?

A pilgrim now, who yearns to be
One, with the shadow, of that elf
Who, I once left, for nihility
I make weary treads, to that self!

© 2018 Vikas Chandra

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