The Detachment. Poem by Gangadharan nair Pulingat..

Home a sweet home
Where there is nine opening
The doors are random shut
The windows are opened for wind
The home is a comfortable one
Where enjoyment is the main thing
There lives a flash in life
Always striving for worldly pleasures
There it makes own planning
Building castles in air
Hoping for infinite time
But never knowing the exit point
Here it calls the death
Not the final end but final journey
To a world of unknown, we can pray.