On Death And Dying. Poem by Peya Jakob

Mist of earth, dust and sand,
Thy noble servant flesh command,
change not this flesh to dust-
and not yet these ashes to ash.
More of me is claimed by you,
as the spark of life is defeated by you.
My eyes desire one last sunrise,
as the sun sets on my life.
To feel with my heart before,
the time when i can feel no more.
This spirit of life departs my frame,
the last move of a long game.
The fire in my heart ceases to burn,
silence, a deathly reticence.
Death, the thief stings as a million a wasp,
and i slip from times grasp,
he steals my passion,
stills my motion.
At last he lifts my soul,
the rest of me may fall.