A sage is, as good, as his God!
A sinner, as good, as his Sin!
But a lover, is an, enigma flawed
Who loves, to death, his heart’s chagrin!
To cradle, a waif in, soul’s lullaby
Ain’t it a sin, or blasphemy!
Lo and behold, a lovelorn rabbi
At Wailing Wall, who, bleeds piety!
How you know, it’s there, until it beats
To the rhythms, of a, spent despair
I paved, for you, my city’s streets
With a heart, lost amid, a sin, and a prayer!
See the splendor, of your, nonchalance
As though, spring bathed, in the blood, of spree
Whilst I brace, to kiss, fall’s dalliance
When Your Pain, Is All, That’s Left Of Me!
© 2018 Vikas Chandra