Same spectacle, is life, each day
An aging world, laid bare, to see
Each morning, begins a, child’s play
Every twilight, ends, sin’s rhapsody!
Each night, we sleep, on the same, bed sores
Same dreams, which walk us, to despair
A hopeless faith, amidst, nameless doors
Finds the address, of a, new nightmare!
Each today, a mimicked, yesterday
Is the, tedious sigh, of a conjecture
If so, banal be, this inert essay
Why call, it life, not quagmire!
We are, the pilgrims, of our sins
A fear, in the throes, of senescence
Wounded souls, beyond, our skins
Lingering with, The Pain, Of Existence!
© 2018 Vikas Chandra