One Place Is Ours Poem by Rajendra Prasad Meena Jaipur India

Nothing is ours except one.
Man collects more than he can use,
Yet death is the final truth.

We are not immortal,
Our days are few and brief.
Why don't we use our wage
To bring some joy, some relief?

The grave in the churchyard is yours,
As it was for those before.
Many thought as you do now,
Many were stronger than you.

You are an ordinary man,
As kings and beggars were.
One day you have to die,
And others will use your share.

Your savings will change hands,
Your house will find new feet.
The world will keep on turning,
Without missing a single beat.

No one is more unlucky than you,
And no one is luckier too;
For death comes alike to all,
To the old, the rich, the new.

So live while life is with you,
Be kind, be wise, be true.
What you give will stay behind,
When the world forgets of you.

For wealth is only borrowed,
And time is never ours.
The only thing that truly lasts
Is love within our hours.