In the pilgrimage, of, long-lost time
The Holy Grail, of, trinity’s soul
Every milestone, is a, sin sublime
One of, our many truths, history stole!

How often, is this, myth retold
Whilst abridging, that bridge, never seen
Except, thru a pious, political blindfold
Of a, historian, who devised, guillotine!

Whoever said, “Time, can’t be, betrayed”!
Perhaps, slumbered on, its centerspread
That saga, turned out, to be charade
We had, sworn by, until we bled!

“Was Mozart, nobler, than Bonaparte!”
Our faiths, hold on, until, myths last
With, sin-icism’s seed, deep down, our heart
Thru, History’s Windows, Stare At Past!

© 2022 Vikas Chandra