A poem, a caravan

vikas chandra

How a myriad of hunches tramp the lonesome lingering gritty trail
Like a lost caravan from bygone times, in the quest of elusive holy grail
How profound is the hunt for bountiful musings that yield a tour de force
End not as enchanting as the stirring milestones in the sublime recourse

Where there was nothing, is now a trace of that convoy’s layovers
That arose from a naught but strewed enroute, sagas of benign rovers
Of battles within and droughts of thoughts and angst of lacks and letdowns
Of dulcet chirps, placid winds, blessed vistas and small sleepy towns

Blithely disposed a legion of words, entwined to a deep substance
As caravan tows its odds and ends doggedly beyond many a distance
Reared with time and fabulous flair, now the body befits the soul of toil
As sundry stallions of the cavalcade, rise to rouse its crux with a roil

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