Wednesday, July 28, 2010


 picture courtesy:internet

Death isn’t all it seems.
The old ideas still hold good,
Of man’s separation
From this miserable world
To that land of joy.
But man is just man himself,
Groping in vain in the darkness of time.
The time had come,
They die with little smiles,
And the world around
just cries aloud!
The world mourns
Just for a day or two.
But death leaves a wound
In the hearts of the dearest ones.
For, gone are they
Who had been near for so long,
Long not in the scales of time
Every moment, a life-time!
For you had seen in them
A universe of your own,
And now all of a sudden
Your world shattered into pieces.
With the passage of time
Your joys and leisures would come
But not in the pack of happiness.
Every joy would sting
And every leisure would ache,
And in the depths of your heart
Remain a void; a hollow so large
That nothing would ever fill it!
The world just turns too busy,
But deep in your heart,
The pain would never cease!
Death is the most casual thing of all,
But not the grief of separation.
Each day and night
Would seem so long,
Each room and space
Would remind you of them.
And that is when you come to know,
Beauty is never beauty itself.
The gentle breeze, the flowing rivers,
The blooming flowers, the silent night,
All seem a beauty when
You are with them, your dearest ones.
But when death has captured
The most dearest of all,
Even the silent night
Would seem too grave!

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