The Mystic Clearing Of The Wild

I sought myself, where the fall, lay spent
Like a widow, in the throes, of loss
I found, solace, in sacrament
At the altar, where I, bore my cross!

Was it, a stroke, of happenstance
Or His answer, to my, soul’s calling
When I, rustled past, dead insolence
Into mother’s arms, laid out, sprawling!

Never had, mystique, such a dimension
Nor nirvana, such shades, of bliss
I felt melting, in that, unison
Wherein faith, flooded my, estrangement’s abyss!

Why it took ages, for me, to unearth
In my sanctum, lasts that, quiescent child
In a dying man, who found, new birth
In The, Mystic Clearing, Of The Wild!

© 2020 Vikas Chandra

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