Lest soul slumber, o’er, woods’ wild trail
That mystic vein, under, moorland’s skin
The thorn, that bled, lovelorn nightingale
Stabs thru, my heart, which wants, to sin!

Thru whistling woods, stray, forlorn dreams
Rustling thru, yearnings of, an age
Where God, is fear, Satan redeems
A faithful soul, on its, last pilgrimage!

“I have, not slept, for a, million years
For many more, I may, not sleep”
That autumn’s pain, no one, ever bears
Our misery’s grain, who’s bound, to reap!

The calling, to cradle, from tomb
Is, nirvana’s, profound recall
To life, seeking, death’s blessed womb
O’er Forbidden, Footsteps, Of The Fall

© 2021 Vikas Chandra