Who knew, he’s gone, to never return
Left behind, last wish, of an, open casket
For, the soaring star, destined, to burn
Wanted mankind, to, never forget
Pain, is pious price, of the glory, we earn!

Faith, in Communism, fear, of Brezhnev
Summed up, the Russian, ethos, then
He couldn’t, say “NO”, which, he should’ve
But “YES”, to the fest, of, Socialist omen!

To save, his friend, and the, Soviet conceit
And an, empty, martyrdom, on sale
A father, succumbed, to a, nation’s deceit
Blazing behind, his, tragedy’s trail!

Whose, was it, that great, fall from grace
The man, whom, Communism crucified
Or, the fief, of fear, that lost, the space-race
For, Whose Glory, Whose Pride, Komarov Died!

© 2022 Vikas Chandra