A poem about death, by Durgesh, that sees life in harsh reality, for Different Truths.
Fleeting time
digs grave
so deep.
From the spade of pendulum
which does sound
like tick-tock.
Sometimes we throw
the pebbles of delusion
into sediments of fate.
Which leaves
us speechless
at the final end.
When a fetus takes birth
from mother’s womb
by natal.
Its lip
is soft like
a rose petal.
Gradually
a child comes out
from childish act.
Where he has some dreams
which he wishes
to turn into fact.
With each step
time throws
a dice of momentum.
Where our life does cross
jubilees of silver,
golden and platinum.
After completion of a wish,
our trends is to tilt
in the next greed increase.
But travel
in the mirage of illusion
is a way to self-perish.
Our earthly future preserves
in the lap of
Mother Nature.
But the irony is that
we become
the predator of preserver.
Before taking the next breath
Let’s come out
from the mental crease.
Be calm towards the Holy Nature
where one day you shall have to
sleep forever with ease.
Picture design Anumita Roy, Different Truths
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