Never cared though, but, was it, ever so…!
How my thoughts shaped up, this world, thus far
Indeed, I ain’t its virtuoso…
But a man of his words, his own world’s czar!
Still, what am I, if not intrigue!
Who ain’t beyond, world’s mean inquests
Not one amongst, wiseacres’ league
Which shreds my words, in its clout’s conquest!
Who say don’t doll-up, words’ true creed
But search meaning, in beauty’s streak
Are the ones, who sow, prejudice’s seed
In how world fathoms, fine arts’ mystique!
Oh World! I seek not, an awe grandiose
Nor a malice masked, in intellect’s guise
May I see my sweat, from your heart lachrymose
When I Read, My Labors, Thru Your Eyes!
© 2018 Vikas Chandra