To a pinch, of ash, from a fist, of dust
I slither, past, my estrangement
Who bequeathed me, this, wanderlust
If not, my life, it’s sacrament!
I am alone, faith of, my fear
As well, the shame of my, sin too
In social mob, a façade, I wear
Pious lie’s, tattoo, over, virtue’s taboo!
I am, my mother’s, lullaby
And the cradle, of my, primal dream
To the, psalm of senescence, from first cry
I’m the funeral, of my, own requiem!
I’m spring’s bliss, singing, fall’s yearning
And the, twilight-sun bathing, melting in, sea’s blood
Moon’s smoldering tears, quenching, night, burning
Also, pain’s thorn, bursting from, love’s bud!
I am, the origin, and, the end
Of the, vain epic, of my, life’s outrage
A Satan’s wish, which seems, godsend
Since I, Became, My Pilgrimage!
© 2020 Vikas Chandra