Death
In the end comes the end of a
man,
Who has been a ceaseless engine
of action,
Whose brow has envisioned a
billion visions,
Whose mind has reasoned a billion
thoughts,
Which switch off at death as
if all the stars in the heavens have
extinguished.
Man's thousand-mile journey comes
to an end
In a blazing transformation,
A miraculous blend of action
and thought turns to a bundle of flesh,
The corporeal component of life
stands without a spark,
The magic has evaporated forever.
Death is a state of matter,
Whose energy is forever conserved,
Matter changes forms but never
disappears.
Man may live after death through
his works,
Death is a punctuation mark
in a long description.
Beyond our human form,
Our flesh and bones disintegrate
back into elementary particles,
Changing one agglomeration to
another.
Universe is our only religion.
Human flesh and human ideas
Are parallel lines,
Which must coexist but remain
separate,
Influencing each other.
This seemingly incomprehensible
relationship
Has remained a dagger in the
heart of science, religion and philosophy.
Immortality is not nature's way,
But a fantasy in human mind,
Its power has beckoned many
a soul
To transcend the material barrier,
In search of timelessness.
The shadow of death,
Like the transparent sheet of
time hanging over us,
Surrounds us through life.
Its fear triggers a thousand
shields to survive,
Its certainty is the ultimate
relief to some.
Standing on earth, man has pierced
deep in universe,
To find connection with it,
Man's immortal work is ideas,
Which nature may not perish.
Human life is a dizzying splendor
of possibilities,
Perhaps the supreme act of nature,
Death does end it in physical
form,
But does not diminish its conceptual
immortality,
Its grandeur passes from generation
to generation.
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