Ain’t 50, ‘The age, of pilgrimage’
At least, that’s how, life, falls into place
No dream, to chase, no war, to wage
Break, all your mirrors, to hide, from your face!
Senescence, is a truth, no myth, anymore
Funerals of friends, make it, more real
From the, faith in life, to fear’s metaphor
Every moment, seems, ‘That last trial’!
A life, beyond, cradle and grave
A faith, beyond God and His fears
An immortal, panache, I have
Infinite, are my, breaths, beats, and years!
Not Hemingway, who flirts, with death
I defy, those highbrows, who deify
Life’s servitude, to, time’s shibboleth
I Refuse, To Age, I Refuse, To Die!
© 2023 Vikas Chandras