Graveyard Tells A Softer Tale. Poem by M. Asim Nehal

Between the lanes of trade and cries of sale,
A quiet graveyard tells a softer tale.
Across, the crosses stand in equal peace,
Two faiths, one truth—where all ambitions cease.

Encircled tight by towers touching sky,
They watch the living rush and bargain by.
Here, death is timed between a call and deal,
A form to sign, a moment one must feel.

A tear appears—then quickly wiped away,
For markets wait, and so does yesterday.
The earth receives, the prayer is duly read,
Routine completes its duty to the dead.

And as you turn, your footsteps lose their weight,
Life pulls you back—urgent, loud, and late.
Perhaps the graveyard smiles, calm and wise:
"You'll all return… no matter what you prize."