To lose yourself, and find again
In the mob, that never, belonged to you
As yet another, estranged man
Same face, façade anew!

Which redemption, you lusted for
The one, from world, or that, being within!
Freedom, ain’t, a social metaphor
Like vanity, ain’t a, hedonist’s sin!

Why a, pilgrim yearns, for that, last mile
Which ends, a lingering, pilgrimage
Hope is nothing, but a, sin fertile
Sowed in the, heart of a, dream’s outrage!

An endless chase, to that thing, called ‘nothing’
Still a man is, worth the dream, he redeems
Like that, fury’s fall, in the throes, of spring
Every Truth, Is A Myth, At Last, It Seems!

© 2018 Vikas Chandra