Death, The Worthy One Poem by Manas Mukherjee

Life's just another canvas this day,
Upon which brushes thy mind's sorrow;
And the pearl that made red, thy design.

The gore thou boast of, many hearts betray,
Whilst delays the slaughter till the morrow.
This morn, beneath the scorching glares,

And on thy pyre, doth she shine,
Amidst mockery, and eyes that hark dismay.
Yet thy life thou live, that did borrow,

Trading the glory forth the shrine
Of love and of death, but thy dim blood dares
Turn into light, pitiless ashes,

As, to all that doth hark, out she cries her prayers,
When on the lighted pyre, that sweet, calm face clashes.