What love, would be, sans passion’s sin
And sin, sans, spent soul’s, sacrament
Why is, spring’s enigma, so akin
To the mystique, of the, wasteland’s scent!
Lilac menses, of a, virgin lass
Strewn rosary, of a, lovelorn sage
Purple patch, of passion, parades its class
How blessed, is this, bliss’s pilgrimage!
Who estranged me, from my, forlorn heart
And lit, in my soul, hope’s Christmas tree
Could there be, more profound, an art
Than etched, on my soul, beauty’s rhapsody!
Beyond, the reason, of season
Never ever, ends, splendor’s spectacle
Where, my soul, sings, in unison
Psalm of love, with, faith’s canticle
Man’s dream, entrapped, in a, restless child
A Purple Riot, In The, Wild!
© 2020 Vikas Chandra
vikas chandra 