Reaping Rustles Of The Fall


O’er moor’s soul, strewn, relics of, life’s rot
Lost labors, of love, remembrance, redeems
Death finds, time’s faith, in pain’s, sublime thought
Fear fosters, joy, o’er tombs of, lost dreams!

Between, fleeting bliss, and lasting aches
A restless, yearning, strays, and strays …
In the depths, of endless, thoughts it rakes
Is the seed, of change, baptized in malaise!

This mystique, of autumn, needs no word
Truth, blares never, speaks, in whispers
Grow grapes, of bliss, in pain’s orchard
Bred on, soil of sin, blood of desires!

Don’t tread hard, o’er a, throbbing heart
Lest the, myth shatter, of a, fond recall
I hear, my requiem, played by Mozart
Whilst, Reaping Rustles, Of The Fall!

© 2021 Vikas Chandra

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