My Dying Days Poem by lalitha iyer

hours are counted
my days are numbered
this may be my last step
this may be my last talk

wonder whether I will wake up
and see the morning buttercups
enjoy the hot tea and breakfast
pack up to Office like the rest

thinking of the illness lurking
behind the skin of every being
I wonder how long will I last
thought my limbs are very fast

somebody told me in some book I got
that live as if you are living the last but second thought
and that makes you fast and passionate
attached to your duties and appointments with haste

this is the penultimate moment
next inhaling breath shant come out
the beating heart will stop and shut up
the pulsating arteries shall deny the aching drop

see the ants their life is brief
any second your stand and finish
the poor ends up none to grieve
see the bees and butterflies
that gathers nectar and flutters with wings
in the golden sunshine they give you things
that is so natural and simply baffling
yet, they live but a few hours to days

the undying being is only Love
it lives in those hearts that crave
to feel the tender emotions
with touching tears and passion
god is love, they said
we hung it in the display board
but indeed is he in the love form
lovely too and loving too
he is eternal since he is loving
till the day you love somebody
he does not dies and lives in some body
the demon king thence ordered the priests
not to chant the god's name lest he lives
in the thoughts of men and hearts of thoughts
the heart of love is made of molten love
it is adhesive and eternally embedded
in the pages of the Creation unwedded.