Amar Agarwala

My hollowed casket is empty
Awaiting a withered shell,
My wooden lid is askance
For I hear a death knell.

Mortal desires long stolen
They ever so dearly sought,
This life is a cunning thief
That none has ever caught.

No better mate than death one has
Yet mortals in its fear shake,
Long restful sleep it showers
Without a need to wake.

I shall embrace your tired bones
Withered by rigors of hell,
To reach the heights of heaven
Where you´ll happily dwell.

This ground below is very soft
So loving the breast of earth,
Shall let you return to dust,
For all that you are worth.

My pall bearers are now restless,
Their arduous task still undone;
Tarry no longer my friend,
The sands of time have run.