A rosary, strewn o’er, moorland’s heart
To never be, the same, strand again
It seems requiems, here sowed Mozart
Death sounds, to me, like lingering rain!
Once lived, a man, with his cult, his clan
In tombs, of civil society
Now he’s alone, his caravan
In the, cradle of, lost nativity!
Estranged becomes, when existence
To the, sacraments of, world’s deceit
Don’t wait, for the funeral, of pretense
Better be, death’s pilgrim, find your feet!
There ain’t, a diviner unison
Than a death, drunken with, life’s caress
In the God’s Acre, under the sun
Dying Alone In Wilderness!
© 2018 Vikas Chandra