It was, not true, if not, a dream
Whom, night cradled, and, day nurtured
Every moment, was, meant to, redeem
Labors, of love, from, hope’s orchard!
As pure, as passing, as morn mists
That lust, not to leave, a legacy
Little hands, of, artless alchemists
Built hearths, of hope, with heresy!
Baptized, by faith, and its, lasting fear
Satan, was as good, as bad, was God
To the, nonchalance, of a, mutineer
Who between, spree and sin, seesawed!
Its footsteps, ebbed, where the, mermaids mourn
An end, to, eternal rhapsody
From the womb, of hope, to be, once more born
A Childhood, Lost Like, Sand In Sea!
© 2021 Vikas Chandra