The morning’s, funeral’s, frankincense
Still lingers, in, spent day’s, nostrils
When rises, from fall’s, insolence
A zephyr, to have, her sinful fills!
Sun’s blood, swills she, from the chalice, of sea
Suckles, with stupor, her, broken litter
In vanity’s veil, and, mystique’s negligee
An enigma, amidst, Lord and Lucifer!
Every soul, seems a saint, with a rosary
Of litanies, of, crestfallen dreams
Between faith, and, fear’s, holy chemistry
She bares, sin, lusting heart, redeems!
Day’s quest, dies down, in the throes, of dark
O’er relics, of myths, only truth remains
An ethos squirms, in its, echoes, ever stark
When Evening, Whispers, In Lost Lanes!
© 2021 Vikas Chandra
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