Tenseless Grammar Poem by RAJAT GHOSH

Some strange thoughts bark
Amidst busy walls of life-park,
And some strange feelings fly
Like the nestless birds of sky.

O Life, you are born to die sure
Count your days to vanish pure,
Walk and walk, and then run fast
To reach the destination at last.

Everyday ashes merged in water
Or some to take rest in grave better,
A spontaneous spirit of spoiling time
Regularly runs rapid with death fine.

He is 'on' now, and a second to he 'was'
Tense is meaningless in grammar's future.