Have I lost the trait?

In flawless puritan gait?

When the mind sings the cliché tunes

Of lost forgone with its dews?

The forlorn leas in mystic creeks

Chants the ditty of the lost dips.

Do I need to wake in wonder galore?

To sing the jingle of the Holy shore?

Present croons the mystic wonder glee

Without its puritan numinous spree.

Through the history of mystic time

Spinning their mystery magic dime.

Some won, some lost, others forgotten

In aura of glowing light

Lost the focus of magical bright.

Lost in history over mystic time

Crave for power glory, money and shame

Sublimed in the mortal ‘peace heaven’.

Had they viewed the reality

Would’ve faced the stubborn certainty

Of those in disguise over cliché mundane.

Fruitful yaws with feelers in ferocious claws

The clank of power and fame.

Tucked  neatly in frozen shelves

None for thy honour, thy name?

Lost in name, fame and shame.

The buzz of hard reality

Amid their deceitful calamity.

Sings the tune of today’s canto

To disperse the surplus stanza.

For a healthier tomorrow.

Spring, summer, autumn, plays it numinous tide

Of years found and lost in puritan wonder.

Time to peep in their magical splendour.

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