Why weigh, on me, life’s lasting sighs
I find, myself in, every face
In the search, of truth, in a mob, of lies
I lost myself, without a trace!
In illusion, of, social existence
I live on…with a faith, its fear
With a fist, of hope, pinch of pittance
Life is, an obliged, souvenir!
For whom, to live, if not, for them
Who love me, until, estrangement
An argument, ad hominem
Life is, a forlorn, sacrament!
Cradle to grave, a lone pilgrimage
In a, solitary farm, a soul labored
Death seems, so benign, o’er life’s outrage
As we learn, to age, In This Lonely World…!
© 2019 Vikas Chandra