Which riot spurred, the heart of dark?
The furor, of a, flickering soul!
In the farm of fear, who sowed this spark
To reap, thru night, insolence’s toll!

How dare, the darkness, not dissolve
The virtue, of a, futile flare!
An age, was squandered, to ‘evolve’
From a child’s fairytales, to a man’s nightmare!

With the passion, of an inferno
A phantom, frolics, on a dot
In smoldering wax, baptized as though
Pure vanity caged, in a martyr’s thought!

Amid shadow-play, of life and death
Whose essence burns, ever so bright
Who lives, each breath, an immortal shibboleth
The Flame, That Braves, The Sin Of Night!

© 2018 Vikas Chandra