Count From One To Three Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

Count from one to three and on
In between so many numbers might have gone
Nothing to remember and nothing to be forgotten
Like wealth that has been ill gotten

Life may be passing smooth and easily
Everything may be available readily
Yet there is no happiness on face
Day and night there is rush for mad race

As count may stop one day
You will be simply taken away
Outward journey for never to come back
Leaving behind everything nicely hidden in packs

Seek the contentment when you are in command
Take reasonable approach with honorable stand
In life some wrong is associated and is must
Yet think of supreme authority and trust

It is not happening with you alone
Who ever comes here must be gone
Yet some worthwhile has to be done
How many people die a day but notice is taken of none