Every vow, ends, in a, satire of the past
Whilst gaging age, of a, new outrage
Dreams die, on the way, delusions only last
From mirage, to mirage, in life’s pilgrimage!
Platitudes, cloned by, endless senescence
We drift, across, torpors of time
In the sacrament, of, existence
We kiss, the cross, of a, sin sublime!
Only calendars, change, clocks stay, the same
To keep, with the trysts, of happenstance
Inertia too, needs a, meaningful name
For pretense, of, human transcendence!
A distant echo, is, each year
In the throes, of spring, remembrance, of fall
O’er façade, of fear, faith’s caricature
Time’s Graffiti, On My, Withering Wall!
© 2021 Vikas Chandra