Let Autumn Do Her Worst Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

The grey gets green comes when the spring,
That by fall's all ready to fall,
To every life, things non-living,
Death doubtless comes one day to call.

Yet, with so much death all around
Joys of life never still feel shy,
Man grieves but soon gathers up nigh,
Life survives holding forth her ground.

Death daily devouring many,
Amidst spikes of prickly thorns still
Buds blossom, feeling none the ill,
Life lives, death getting a penny.

Miracle if it's not of life
In the face of death-battles fought,
What is? Life though trapped in sad strife,
Defeated it never is caught.

So, let autumn do her damnedest,
Long as spring endeavours in haste.
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Musings | 14.08.14 |