Had heart not been, that enigma
Which dares, to flirt in, the realm of love
Would sweet, be still, that coup d’état
Which stabs, the soul, of a lovelorn dove!
Why strays, in thoughts, and conjectures
Lost substance, of that, human stain
In the soul of sin, which riot, stirs
The creed, of throbbing, so ‘profane’!
Beyond those tears, and poignant prayers
And the, mean reckonings, of misery
Is the pathos, of a whore, who bares
Her virgin soul’s, bleeding reverie!
You choose the chalice, of your bliss
Not the Holy Grail, of a ‘stranger’s bane’!
If it’s all you, in your heart’s abyss
You Don’t Know Pain…You Won’t Know Pain!
© 2018 Vikas Chandra