Dust Poem by Meraj Ahmed

Death beholds us,
Even when we are alive,
At the mark of seventy
Or, at five.

Only the gallant and the just
Can face the dust
Wherein you will mingle
All alone and single.
And you must give your scepter and crown
To be tumbled down.

All alone you walk
And all alone you lie
In the same dust, wherefore
You march from your cave
To your destined grave.

Hearse comes through
The night airs,
Lending ears, to your prayers,
And mocks at your life
For which you crave
Till you are buried in your grave.

So,
Fear not fate,
Or the written state;
Swords out the sheath you bring,
Foreclose the evil
And the angels you reveal.
Lest mix in the dust,
With your soul, withered and rust.