Decomposition
I do not know why I was born
Nor do I know how I would die
But the soft shackles that
Life puts forth, confine me
Choke me, squeeze me dry.
Had Phoenix been a man; would she
Get burnt to be born again
Once dead inside; would man,
Bow down to evil’s reign
Or, from ashes rise again.
Life is what we leave behind
As generous as we are
From rags to riches, then back again
To be rescued by the cosmos as
Earth, Fire, Water, Wind and Sky.
Prashant Shaurya ©
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