A blistering bay, where my, days lay spent
By the, solemn tomb, of the trinity
I kiss, each day, life’s sacrament
From the goblet, of, faith’s futility!

Awaiting none, and, still someone
Perhaps, the self, that squirms within
Amidst, all myths, truth’s realization
Is, life’s shadow, in, death’s coffin!

Since, she won’t come, shall I pay, a whore more
Than love, to laze, with me, o’er smoldering sand
And tear, to shreds, recalls galore
I had weaved, with lost time, strand by strand!

Mystique, of the dark, kindles, kiln of heart
When in, soul’s sanctum, fear flies, faith’s kite
Bonaparte’s bloodbath, devours, myth of Mozart
An Endless Yearning, Is, Twilight … !

© 2021 Vikas Chandra