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Ardor, by Rajani Kanth, author of Coda


I Hunger for
in  primal
doting,  dream

sybaritic as
in a bowl of
clotted cream

quaint as an
idle beau geste
in   a realm
of savoir faire

fed not  on bread
nor water –
but feasted
of the air

born in vale
of  raptured  sighs
cult  of
noblesse oblige

raised as prince
of limelight
bowed  to an antic

I knew not the ways
Of the hoi polloi –
demotic  caste
Of (wo)men

Only stars of
lofty  Firmament
swim into
My ken

Life lived  within an art form
Love as a pining away
Honor as the highest bond
Can grace the light of day

I  welter  in the lowlands
In  reign of  a  lowly dread
Uncouth  vye  with  valuefree
sordid hearts with lead

The age I seek is fled away
Never to return
Love dissipating niggardly
strewing ashes from an urn

I crave  the shards  of chivalry
gallant and the true
Glory of  unchained mind
past  remembrance and rue

Buzzards, nay rank scavengers
Scout the mangy domain
Eating  one other’s entrails out
slayers and the slain

Glorious, this gendering earth
Aerial  , its  fancy  free –
Yet In chains of  benumbing dearth
We  rot in bigotry

Who dares now to
Rise Above,
Touch  the Promised

Who cares  scatter
Largesse now
Like pebbles
In the sand?

A  touch is all
We  truly crave
A huddle ,  all
We need

Whence the
Blessed Pastoral –
Thence,   our
Holy’ Creed
[© R.Kanth 2017]

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