O, Death Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

O death, come and grip
We shall not weep
Miss you always but not skip
As you are there to pick

We know our limitations
Every thing ends with relations
The moment soul is taken away
Body remains here to give the way

The candle light goes off swiftly
With little air from window rightly
No one blames air or wind
The death does the role of blind

“I am prepared to go anytime”
Many may boldly assert sometimes
Yet the fear grips mind at last moment
Curse the whole life and lament

God has made cycle for renewal
Old goes and new cries on arrival
Cry is same but with difference
Compels us to think sometimes

Only brave smiles at its knock
As he is prepared before lasts stock
Both hands towards sky
Eyes shine as soul prepared to fly

At no stage it may stop
There may be enough of stop gap
One may endure more or less
The noble leading may prove the case

Smile at the last leg of journey
You are leaving behind treasure and money
All relatives may feel sad not at you
But what is left behind for them to view

They may want their share
But in your life time may not dare
They may silently watch your departure and stare
Enough of attention towards your treatment and care