Last few glimpse of a lying soul,
Was seen behind ten heads
Is so uncertain
Gains Maya when alive
And attains Moksha ultimately
Pride, prejudice, love and sacrifice
What’s the point when it means nothing?
Afterlife? Who can see that?
We can assume, only assume.
Maya is wielded to provide illusion
Till we are alive
And Moksha, it is there to set you free.
Like the “Eternal Rest”
There, I could hear it from his dead mouth,
The gargling phrases of Geeta
And from his dead eyes, the vision of heaven
He might have seen his own body from above,
And the mimicked rituals, like a renaissance drama.
Burn and Bring the ash in the urn.
How would’ve he felt when his vision blurred?
All he could see would possibly be darkness getting brighter.
Like entering from a darker side of the tunnel and coming out from the brighter one.
How would’ve he felt when he became aware of his death?
Now his mumble slowly faded like the cigarette smoke
And his eyes turned whiter.
By witnessing the brightest light of the gateway; to heaven
Realize, the triviality of a body.
All cries, a soul witnesses from above!
Now the body is nowhere to be seen.
And the memory of a man lying in a dead bed also grows faint,
And disappears like a snail, slowly.
But the cycle of life continues and another man dies again
And somewhere, somebody celebrates a new nephew’s birth.