When the heart stops throbbing,
When the body becomes frail,
When the kin start sobbing,
And blows the saddening gale;
Then man has to face;
Face the face; the life’s horrible face.
No soul, no feeling, no breath.
The ultimate truth of life is death.
When one dies, he becomes history.
His soul departs leaving behind;
A futile carcass, an empty mind.
And death remains an unsolved mystery.
Nice poem - a bitter truth, openly shared. All of us know we have to die, and yet we act oblivious of it in our daily lives. What is true awareness is a matter of another discussion, or perhaps realization. Great to see such maturity at your age... Well done!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
greatly written the truth we all run from....