Death—
The ultimate end of life.
I know
This is no revelation.
It’s common knowledge
We are born to die.
Yet so tempting
Are all the pains and pleasures
Of this journey called life,
That even when we reach
Our destination
We refuse to alight.
Like we clutch at
A shattered plank of hope
To keep afloat
While drowning in
An ocean of despair
We want to hold on to life.
So soothing and tempting
Is this symphony called life
—A motley medley—
That even when we know
This record will be shelved
In the archive of existence
—In a vault called grave—
We want it to keep playing
Rewinding…Replaying.
'This Record will be Shelved In the Archive of Existence —In a Vault called Grave—'.....AMAZING lines. Reuben.
Symphony called Life....matured belief ..Asma....most of us take life to be a Cacophony...nice poem.. Congrats... udit
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
this is what is called 'Maya ' in our Indian philosophy, Asma. Knowing fully well that all will perish one day or mean nothing once, the Great Umpire, raises His index finger, we behave as though, we have eaten amrit of Immortality. Please read 'Interview With God ' in the site on the same theme. How ever, powerful expressions, young lady. ...udit.