Sadness

Sea shells in a child's hands get snatched away by the sea waves. Long-earned wealth, in cash and kind, is stolen by the burglars. Kith and kin, who have been in thick and thin, end up in graves. Love songs sung coyly turn into knells and death bell murmurs. My precious spouse, my innocent child, and my valued friend Death has snatched them all. Who will ever replace them? With what? I, too, am moving gradually towards my grave's end. Though my soul has flown, I should, in the coffin, remain shut. Like the messenger of death, is my sadness a warning? Does this tell me that the zeitgeist is not favourable? As this isn't monsoon, is the weather, for me, mourning? Should I search for solutions - solvable and saveable? Does sadness yet spare anyone, whether they're young or old? Does it discern whether it's summer's heat or winter's cold?