Between two worlds, thru the, haunting haze
There is, no milestone, that awaits
The restless pilgrim, who, strays and strays …
For a tryst, with Satan, at heaven’s gates!

Creativity’s cost, without, a doubt
Is a, life sentence, in mind’s sanctum
In the invention, of a, theorist’s thought
Can a notion, ever evade, cynicism’s prism!

Where’s the glory, in, unsung bloodbath
Whilst the world, devours, another, banal day
Why choose, beyond fêtes, that forlorn path
Where your shadow, too seems, light-years away!

Amidst, words’ whispers, a silent scream
Of the fear, to end, in oblivion
Many expressions, left to, redeem
From the, shackles of, every impression!

Every mile, is paved, with estrangement
Each sojourn, is a newfound, conjecture
Every moment, spent, is a, sacrament
In The, Lonely Lanes, Of Literature!

© 2020 Vikas Chandra