Had the spring, not heard, yearning of fall
Vain stupor’s, fruit is, nonchalance!
I’m a, fading graffiti, on my wall
A saint, whose sin, is senescence!
From the search, of self, to intellect’s chase
I’ve found, myself, snared, in that cipher
Where a, clan began, evolution’s race
And lost, itself, to its, conjecture!
Every morning, I slurp, tears of sun
With hands, chained in, faith’s rosary
I stray, on streets, once forgotten
With dreams, drunk in, moon’s misery!
In heaven, not, my Holy Grail
Nor God enslaved, in faith’s, gilded cage
Redemption is, lasting, travail
Since Life, Became, A Pilgrimage!
© 2019 Vikas Chandra