Poetry

From the dawn of birth, 
Till the eve of death, 
From child birth’s cry, 
Till man’s death sigh. [1]

Man’s ego rules his mind, 
Emotions that he can’t bind, 
Fooling himself – all’s sublime, 
But that clasp of Death – Its Divine. [2]

Lo how foolish man can be, 
What’s definite not think he, 
Except of life – its jubilees, 
Its sorrows and its miseries. [3]

Death – but that is a certainty, 
With ever step approaches he, 
But thinking only of supremacy, 
Unconquerable as though be he. [4]

Man is born with a cry, 
And in lifetime that flies, 
He succeeds where others tried, 
But with a groan he does die. [5]

Birth and death are much alike, 
Two shores of a river’s flight, 
As the dawn with its sunlight, 
And the dusk approaching the night. [6]
 (Eddies of Life) © Munindra Misra