The Lasting Whispers Of The Fall

Had it not, been for, this mystic tryst
Time would, be a, dreary delusion
Who’d know, it best, than that Alchemist
Who chisels life, with, death’s dimension!!

No sweet, a sin, as September
When a birth, is cradled, by a, funeral song
More’s merrier, the pain, we remember
Does that heart, ever love, that, does not long!

Celebrating pain, is the, inbred creed
A truth, that tethers, two worlds apart
To tend, thru winters, springtide’s seed
A wild zephyr, bleeds, nightingale’s heart!

Who rustles past, the soul, of the moor
If not, in fear’s throes, faith’s recall
Life’s pain, purrs ode, to death’s l’amour –
The Lasting Whispers, Of, The Fall !

© 2020 Vikas Chandra

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