Our cradle, of morn, Our tomb, by twilight
Is a, dystopian dream, destiny!
Beyond existence, life is, a rite
To be born, each day, with a, new litany!

Melts, asphalt streets, saturnine sun
Baptizing world, with the, same conquest
Every soul, slaves in, mortar prison
For nirvana’s, sweat-and-blood, slugfest!

The day, does end, when the mob, is spent
In the, sacrament of, subsistence
Sun dies, yet again, to reinvent
Eternal truth of, life and death’s, coherence!

A hope endures, our faith, and fear
A dream, outlasts, this world’s melee
By that cross, we burn, we are born, to bear
To Rise, From Ashes, Everyday … !

© 2020 Vikas Chandra