The Last Page Poem by Prasad Sing

I just started writing
Where is the last page, unknown.
I never thought of writing
But now I am writing.
The tears of sorrow and smiles of happiness
Coming out from my pen.
The significance of time and the play of life
Coming out from my pen.

The time floats only forward
But the life floats backward.
The time comes whistling
I realise the last page is here.
But now, the time has not any last
So I am immortal.
The time will goes forward
I will give you all, a marksheet at my end.

The belongings will come
The belongings will go.
The writers will go
The writers will come.
There will be not any last page
But honouring there will be a last page.

Today is the beginning
Today is the last page.