The Chorus Poem by Varghese J Kuttikat

Everything that begins ends
So Man, you assume your end,
Not sure whether in fire or in flood
Or in the inexorable sequence
In puffed-up moments you declare
You descended from the heavens splendid
Though convinced inwardly of your earthiness
Upon winged fancies, you fly upwards
In modest moments, you step down
And be content to be accepted by Mother Earth
Who readily forgives childish eccentricities
Mother needs love of her children
As much as the Children of hers
You acquiesce in silence
Suppressing the urge to rage about
And who knows which is better - silence or eloquence?
If every thing slides into silence at last
Why not sing in chorus while we can?