I Myself The End. Poem by SRIRANJI ARATISANKAR

Millions of words have been told;
Millions words will be told.
Yet single word doesn't stand
Either against you or for you.
All are just snare of words.
As all words are spineless,
Even have no bones; merely flesh;
All are still-born
No word-child is growing up.
Nobody till date could not tell
the last word about you.
Hence the seas and the sky
deep blue in anxiety.
Only the end can utter.

I myself the end.
I shall disclose the last word at the end;

Though then no listener would keep existence.