Wherever leads this trodden trail
To a soul who lost his faith to fear
Just a fist of hope not holy grail
Is all I need from this travail!

Fresh turd of goats smells like new birth
Of a weary soul imprisoned in me
May spent heavens shower no mirth
O’er my broken rhapsody!

I find my fate in the trampled dust
My lasting tryst with trinity
Will linger on my wanderlust
Beyond the age of infinity!

No more for redemption I implore
In my last yet not least conquest
May Lord be my final matador
Lo and behold A Pilgrim’s Quest!

© 2023 Vikas Chandra