# It Rains Back
We disappear, we perish,
The silent wings carry us.
There is a fountain, in the ocean.
The ascension steps are easier.
Once the ground of a thousand years,
Of age is covered. There is no respite.
As we lift the lid from the pot,
The water is evaporated into steam.
It goes nowhere, it rains back.
Comments about this poem (# It Rains Back by Sadiqullah Khan )
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