Wednesday, May 4, 2011

From the yonder crematorium, the smoke from the funeral pyres
Reminds me of the impermanence of mankind and our destined exit
Though when pulses are live, the feelings of immortality runs through our blood
And until the last hour, little do we care to build for a life after death

The billionaire who sits on a cushion of money and the ragged pauper
Who begs hard to live for a day, the death shall level them both
And in life after death, the cycle of karma shall play its part!!!