Death no more than transforms -I
As drops of water from the face of sea
Vanish to rise, be pregnant clouds to drain
Down, getting born again raindrops to be,
Many if merge, one with ocean in vain,
Some fall in vales, on hills or on plane lea,
A few as fade in dust or desert sands,
And some as rivers flow farther and free
To ocean, their journey’s cycle as ends.
Some drops, were they to fall on bird’s dropping,
Fertilize it to cause a fresh life’s birth
As a seed sprouts to grow as green sapling
One day to be a tree that gathers girth,
So Death, thou art no more than a mere change,
A device in destiny’s hand deemed strange.
_____________________________
Musings | 11.02.2011 revised July 2026 | change, death, life, rain, Sonnet
Note: continued in Part- II.
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