He Who Is Afraid Of Death Poem by Nikhil Parekh

He who is afraid of stark darkness; is never accepted by brilliant daylight,

He who is afraid of inexplicable pain; is never accepted by perennial joy,

He who is afraid of barbaric betrayal; is never accepted by passionate fantasy and sizzling romance,

He who is afraid of fulminating lava and blistering heat; is never accepted by rosy winter with moist ice cascading freely from the skies,

He who is afraid of an ocean of augmenting tears; is never accepted by amicable smiles,

He who is afraid of the fathomless expanse of a yawn; is never accepted by boisterous energy,

He who is afraid of profound emptiness and more than a million hours of boredom creeping in; is never accepted by flowing time,

He who is afraid of ghastly accidents occurring uncannily on the streets; is never accepted by electric paced race,

He who is afraid of overwhelming work and rivers of perspiration dribbling out; is never accepted by frolic play,

He who is afraid of ghosts and appalling horror; is never accepted by the stupendous angel,

He who is afraid of blatant lies; is never accepted by the definitions of impeccable truth,

He who is afraid of abashing abuse and an armory of unheard expletives; is never accepted by the sweet melody in sound,

He who is afraid of the blanket cover of horrendous black; is never accepted by sparkling white,

He who is afraid of scorching thirst; is never accepted by gushing rivers of white water,

He who is afraid of licentious desires and the chapter of procreation; is never accepted by the domains of any religion,
He who is afraid of violent whirlpools and tumultuous storms; is never accepted
by the pleasant evening,

He who is afraid of the hissing reptile; is never accepted by the chimneys of glittering gold,

He who is afraid of crumbling in shambles on the ground; is never accepted by the twin pair of robust legs,

He who is afraid of wholesome silence; is never accepted by the virtue of eloquent speech,

He who is afraid of clusters of hideous fungus; is never accepted by the rubicund fruit,

He who is afraid of tyrannical slavery; is never accepted by the royal
and stupendously embellished throne,

He who is afraid of indiscriminate massacre and bloodshed; is never accepted by immortal laughter,

He who is afraid of decaying stench and dilapidated cobweb; is never accepted by
the incredulously fragrant rose,

He who is afraid of the new born infant; is never accepted by the prudently sagacious adult,

He who is afraid of undulating and harsh sands of the desert; is never accepted
by pure satiny silk,

He who is afraid of infinite shards of broken glass; is never accepted by
the handsomely scintillating mirror,

He who is afraid of unprecedented starvation; is never accepted by ravishing
morsels of tantalizing food,

He who is afraid of mind boggling enigmas; is never accepted by the perfectly synchronized solution,

He who is afraid of the unsurpassable depth of the valley; is never accepted by the plain terrain and rustic roads,

He who is afraid of the rotten pile of disparaging garbage; is never accepted by the sacrosanct and holy Ganges,
He who is afraid of the colossal and pugnacious battlefield; is never accepted by
the apostle of peace,

He who is afraid of stringently blaring music and an ambience of wandering wolves; is never accepted by the pious temple,

He who is afraid of the devil and the towering giant; is never accepted by the Omnipotent creator,

And he who is afraid of death and the morbid silhouette of corpse; is never
accepted by mesmerizing life.