--------------------------------------
An alarming call,To a doctor was made.
To visit a hall,
That had suddenly fallen in shade.
A body lied quiet on bed,
Like in deep sleep or having rest.
Around stood hopes,
Holding a lost strife,
To a question,"does it hold life?"
Hand in hand,
Did stand,
Those relations of red,
Those relations of love.
Waiting for miracles,
Praying to Almighty above,
To extend some breaths,
To let life be slow,
But they had surrendered to death,
They didn't know.
The flow stopped,
Of blood, of life.
Touch of an ice cold body,
Had sent shivers through spine.
With blind hopes,
The body was shaken.
To take it out,
Of that incredible silence.
And it was done,
Till hopes were shaken,
Which finally died,
And eventually turned to cries.
Pain was ample
And so were the efforts to take it out.
Those cries,
Were so wide,
Stretched all the nerves inside.
Tears kept flowing,
Eyes went blind,
But still fell meagre,
To the sorrow,
That it had just broken all the cords behind.
No doors were open,
No ways could be found,
That pain,
Through which could go unbound.
So motionless and lifeless,
It had never been,
No stories on lips,
No expressions could be seen.
So satisfied it lied,
No creases on face,
Over that materialism,
Gone that madly world race.
People were around,
To make loud sound
To show off, they felt the grief
But it was more of noise
Surely not to any relief.
What a drama they played,
So fine actors.
But death is the plot,
Of which were they aware of?
Draped in white sheet,
And on four arm support,
It headed on a new path,
To set free the soul.
Harder was to accept it that way,
But the only consoling fact was
That life is a mere play.
Something seemed to have been snatched
Something to put on a severe loss
The way was tough
Because life had conned.
Life is so odd,
And so its ways.
A person so intimate to you,
Is finally set ablaze.
To let him rest in peace,
Or to find his route to sky, he finally flees.
He departs forever,
And now,
No chats would happen,
No sitting together.
But when life is born,
Death walks along,
Concludes on a day,
To take that life finally away.
And just leaves memories behind,
Which on its way, it finds.
Memories,
Some of which stay in heart, And some stay hung on wall as a piece of art.
