O’er fault, of my fury, since I fell
A thought, ended, time’s inertia
A new faith, found, this infidel
Chaos, ain’t fear, but its absentia!

Lest tremors shake, hearth of, my heart
Break rosary, of my, indenture
Renaissance is, the mother, of new art
Wasn’t Mozart, a modern, conjecture!

Past’s truth, present’s lie, future’s legacy
That’s how, purist thinks, he shapes up time
Yet, it is, a maverick’s legacy
That transforms, a moribund, paradigm!

With a fist, of thoughts, and time’s clay
World is beyond, that myth, man makes
And civilizations, a, child’s play
Thriving Thru, The, Thought-Quakes!

© 2021 Vikas Chandra