Life Doesn't End Poem by Ravi Panamanna

Returning a glance, shrunken in the womb,
Listening to a deep stir, with emanating sighs,
Towards his home and grounds, winds and dales,
Made a look whimsical and finally descended the steps.

A town he reached, a room he hired,
The plan was plain, ending life, yes - suicide.
Life to him meant thorns, he was profusely bled,
Death he sought, a release, the final gambit.

Night was chosen, the hour was set,
Diary completed, reasons clearly mentioned.
Cyanide he trusted, records he believed,
Freedom in a flash, he could no longer wait!

Twilight was cast, birds returned homeward,
Neon lights opened, The Town Square overflowed.
Pageantry followed, the din continued,
He slowly retreated, solemn moments rolled by.

Across the street, in the thickening mist,
Augmented a scene, tacit and resonant.
Breast feeding a mother was, bare was her breast,
Torn was her cloth, unkempt was her hair.

Two children skeletal, from a pitcher shared a loaf,
A rootless transient life, impelled by a drive.
The suckling baby, mother, the children - a frozen frame.
Spine it chilled, virtual thoughts it removed,
From a swirl, in one stroke he made into striking life.
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