His frankincense still lingers on
The first one from our pack of four
His funeral ain’t any agony bygone
But faith and fear’s lasting metaphor!

We had lazed, on, our legacy, of, lost years
Kissing mornings, missing noons, despairing, last few moons
When will our kin tie us to our biers
We count life’s banes before death’s boons!

We social ciphers too were once kings
Farmers of the fiefs of our beliefs
Now laugh off past’s yearnings as sweet nothings
And embrace present’s profound griefs!

Who cares who knows who stays who goes
Leaving the quest of life’s conquest
In redemption’s throes three amigos
Whoever Falls Next Of The Rest!

© 2022 Vikas Chandra