Monday, February 16, 2009

Plea of a dying man!

Plea of a dying man:

Mother, I cried for food when i was born,
In life I was happy and sad and was torn,
Betwixt extremes of pleasure and pain
Youthfulness sometime made me vain.
Aged though i became with time
Never have i committed an heinous crime.
Now Thou orders thine forces to snatch me away
From this peaceful life when my hair is grey.
Tell me what grave sin didst I do
To give my breath away to You?!

Mother Nature's reply:

My son of wonderful pain
Hasn't thee not seen men that art vain
Foolish pursuits are their lot
In the world's magical Net ther are caught.
No wonder when playing life's game
Only some become great, many remain same.
Alas only to serve thine flesh hast thou lived!
This body which dies at a rapid pace
Is but made of clay, water, air and space!
Now when I demand these things back
To give it up why art thou slack?
Hast thou been granted a boon for serving God
Or the great Masters who on earth didst trod?
By such acts alone, immortal, one becomes
The rest are then ordained to be content, with whatever comes!

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