Mortal Rite.

Wherever you roam, the shadow of death,
Keeps dancing upon the rhythm of your breath,
As and when the rhythm ceases its measure,
Your life dissolves into the black shadow of death.

You work day and night for some hollow delight,
You sacrifice your rest, consumed by restless nights,
Every fleeting moment poured into empty pleasure,
At the end of the day, you find yourself prey to decay's diet.

Histories and all the stories hum a hymn of glory,
For which every life became a black and white story,
All heroes got no chance to dance upon the songs,
Of their epic and immortal tales of glorious victory.

The souls are intoxicated by the drug of the maze of life,
A husband is dying to satisfy his beautiful wife,
All the wives are making efforts to control their husbands,
Childhood dissolving into oldness follows the mortal rite.