From the, urban dust, grew, this paradox
The stony face, of our, ethos
Cold existence, under keys, and locks
Bares to, the bone, human pathos!

Is this mayhem, the only, sacrament
Of the, chase to, nowhere everyday
With smoky sighs, we love; resent
New ways, to breathe in, life’s melee!

O’er long-lost, trails of, caravans
In search, of a dream, who left, homesteads
We find, histories of, estranged clans
Piecing present, from precedent’s, shreds!

This miasma, we are, we’ve made
To mourn, celebrate, our lives’ malaise
Where our, epics died, ethos decayed
A City Lost In Human Maze….

© 2019 Vikas Chandra