Divine Death Poem by sekharan pookkat

The old man is dead
Without a penny
To share his last meal
And last supper on earth.

Looking into the sky
Floating through the black clouds
Remembered him
The real life on earth

Living without a penny
Even for a piece of loaf
And will be nice to live in this world
For a neat clear death

Bare belly and no bad thoughts
Only thought for a piece of bread
An a place to hide the lean body
Under a roof in the benumbing cold.

No piece of wool and no piece of cloth
Bare belly and endless dreams
Buried in the blanket of cold night
And the old man died a divine death.

Nothing he brought
And nothing he left
Only wisdom he sailed
In this shore of life