And still man mourns death -II
Not a moment ticks when life may not grow,
Let seasons come and go, tides wax and wane,
Life keeps transforming, ever on the go,
Gets born again wee like ghazal’s refrain.
Death leaves behind a ripened seed in chain,
The soul as traces a long-drawn voyage
Whose seed sprouts forth time and time once again,
Aiming to evolve O at every stage.
If quiet does a drop evaporate,
So too a soul when to new flesh passeth,
In silence does Nature new things create,
Whine not O man in life nor yet in death,
For, ye come crying taking first fresh breath
That ye whine all life and leave so at death.
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Musings | 11.02.2011 revised July 2026 | death, faith, life, Sonnet
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