GOLDEN CHARIOT

Shiny wheels spun fast, over long golden trail,
Wings one white and other red,
Chariot then marched invisible far,
Me seated amidst- divine furry chair,
Thus dividing path by two abundant fair
Such critical march, yet unbroken,
Belief perishes even, for floating globe,
Who would thus, soothed by such?
But I indeed; for me blinded,
Amidst convincing throne, golden built,
Faith sealing flaws of all earthlings,
Felt depth thus, logic in such rising
Tiny wheels spun fast, crawling
The wrecked cars burning aside,
Black fumes rose high, perished shrieking,
Songs of contentment tuned by next,
Blood filled the potholes on one side,
Fragrance and dew to brim of pots off shore
Thus, path separated existence as such-
Dark world from light, day from night,
Happiness from sorrow, yesterday from tomorrow,
Gods from demons, and priests from evils
Faintly seated on high throne, he questioned-
Define now, you mixture of earth and breathe,
The day from divine cart- you saw and felt,
“Why can’t the darkness be wiped off?”
Asked I, with bouncing confusion,
Labeled priest, through patient lips –
What if left wing been trodden?
Never such breed or cost my cart,
So shall cost all perception rise,
And holder of perfect earth,
Unless you conquer death and birth,
To escape distant, earthly mirth,
Earth breaths wisest of best to worst!