Death - The Gift Of Life Poem by Manauwer Raza

There’s nothing certain but death
All in the world that is exactly set
We are born and live to die
Death the only gift of life

We fret, make noise shout and cry
We skid hills to valley and back try
Get torn among home, work and friends
Looking for loose folds and ends
There’s nothing certain but death
All in the world that is exactly set

We fight we grin we spurn we scream
We thrust the dagger until we bleed
All to achieve and amass
As lonely as the highland grass
We are born and live to die
Death the only gift of life

Walk we straight with pride
Look we people in the eye
Seldom do we stop and stoop
But with shoulders draped and hanged droop
There’s nothing certain but death
All in the world that is exactly set

We make friends yet sly
Break hearts and water eyes
Too proud to bend or mend
Lots of commotion set to apprehend
We are born and live to die
Death the only gift of life

Each death promise another
A whole new story to bother
Our life breath and gives froth novel life
To another birth to die again and strife
There’s nothing certain but death
All in the world that is exactly set

Never can we live past in life
In death we reach the very start
From dust we come to dust we return
There’s nothing certain but death
Death the only gift of life