When Death Was At My Door Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

Some while away their life in vain,
Some in fear of death, some in pain;
Some feel, death comes when life gets tired,
But life all life in death is mired;
To some death is a bitter pill,
There's naught a thing more precious still.

Death a messenger of Dharma1,
Leads men to abide in karma;
Death to soul if not sole freedom,
A parole to the Lord's kingdom!
To man of lifetime's pravritti2,
Death's a few moments' nivritti3.

At time to go body and mind,
O forget all we failed to do
In life; leave all worries behind,
What use upon spilt milk to rue,
For, there awaits one more life yon
Death is a journey further on.

All that was left undone to mend,
Mend fences of dear life's farmland,
So then walk up to welcome Death,
No one aught run away from friend,
New beginnings, death is no end,
Soul breathes an immortal breath.

But all this wisdom I did miss,
A simple truth I knew was this:
In all life, of mundane things rife,
I knew none whatso about life—
That scarce is life without a cause—
O death when ‘pon my death-bed was.
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Dharma1: The Lord of Death, of righteousness.
Pravritti2: activity, engaging in mundane things.
Nivritti3: karma-less-ness, retirement.
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Musings | 03.12 12 |
Topic: life, death