Beyond this day, if we shall find,
a loss of will to yearly stroll,
and seek the meek embrace,
of beloved sleep and swelling toll.
It means we will soon in time,
see life’s greatest truth.
An old friend will come and greet,
in the morning chirps or night owl’s hoot.
He, the death, is most trustworthy of our ends,
rest were just mirthless games,
of old friends or foes, doubtful,
devious, with varied masks they played.
He stands behind every door,
to shake your hand one day
just nod and smile, same jovial mood,
when maybe few times in your life
you pass those menacing corridors.
Do not fear but be delighted,
it is the fate of every being.
Like the butterfly from its cocoon,
it is a new, another journey yet to be seen.
Live the life free of hate,
and grasp his hand with a merry look.
Pass free of any bounding yearning,
as there is no question in the end
of what you made and what you took.
It is the divine truth of life,
ugly sometimes it may seem.
But death is the ultimate absolute,
of every mortal, every life, resolute.
He is the constant companion of every being,
Oblivious to their actions in life.
Standing between heaven and earthen layer,
as an unalterable truth,
with every soul and every prayer.
Literary Expeditions 