Was meant, to last, these distances
An age, we spent, in the throes, of time
Are we, the relics, of romances
Or remembrance, of a, sin sublime!

The past, we made, is no more there
Just an, entrapment, I live within
No sweet, a sin, as the sense, I bear
Of you slithering, underneath, my skin!

A lovelorn man, has the creed, of a saint
Who makes, a faith of, his heresy
And transcends, space and, time’s constraint
Can truth, defeat, love’s Pharisee!

Pasts never die, why bid adieu
To the, hope of heart, soul’s litany…
…Whatever, Takes, Me To You…
…Whatever, Brings, You To Me…!

© 2018 Vikas Chandra