It Is Futile Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

It is futile

Nothing shall speak
Not even spirit weak
What shall remain behind
Only mortals of some kind

No one shall remember
Even by family members
It shall be on some occasions
When family is together for some reasons

So think of your worth
As what shall happen upon death
You shall be consigned to flames
For no one later on to claim

Your are gone
With body turned into ashes and done
Body is mixed with earth's clay
For permanent stay

So it is futile
To turn hostile
Towards mankind
And show hatredness with blind eyes