Ruffling hot winds of a hot season

Sweat bathing me inside and out

White whiffs of cloud streaks float

Offering little hope in a clear blue sky.


Involved in a struggle am I,

With only my God to rely on,

Far and away are my human friends,

My breathing is more of a sigh.


"Lose not faith and be patient":

That is what my Scripture says;

With the heat of opposition all around,

I still move on quite quietly.


Who to blame? Who to open up?

Except words of sympathy, I get naught,

Often a phone talk or an email,

With my UK pal -- nothing more brought.


I am fed up of living in this livid world,

Its hollow fun and its unsteady gait,

It's to my God I turn to while in this rut,

For His rains of mercy, I wait and wait.


No doubt my God is sustaining me,

Making me get up and giving me strength,

To battle with the odds defiantly,

May He, always, on my side be,


And at night when it gets dark,

It is a fight till the dawn for me,

Each memory tugs at the heart,

And its pain robs my sleep off me.


It is money and nothing but money,

Which forms all friendships and ties,

Hard times have made me fully aware,

Of this world, on a money-making spree.


Most of the people caught up every day,

Their only concern is to eat, drink, procreate,

They have no time to share it with those,

Who, like me, long for one, not astray.


Sometimes the moon shines, sometimes absent,

It is television, computer or the mobile phones,

This generation and age have come to think,

That we are meant to stay here...forever stay.


But there are those graveyards too which await,

All of us; and my sight can't forget the way,

The silence there whispers a message so true,

"This is where we all have to end up one day".


Be it Bill Gates, Obama, Putin or the Pope,

Nothing here will last much -- so the pomp here,

Is not permanent at all for them or me,

Heaven and Hell are extending their rope.


Why are good deeds being blotted out?

Why is the rat race for MORE so much in vogue?

All this worldly opulence and all affluence:

For a hollow ground and white shroud? Without a doubt!


Wars and fueds against the weak and meek,

For what? This temporary world's glory?

Ah, but the truth and end of the matter is:

It is the grave where till doom that we shall sleep!


Who will visit us then? Have we thought?

The darkness and stillness of graves grows,

For all of us, be we wealthy or be we poor,

In the end is the shroud sans all fanfare and clout.


No one to ask us how we are doing,

That is how everyone of us will be,

All the false glories and world's gala,

For six-feet of ground......SO SADDENING!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

As I have written in the poem above, inspired as the evening departed and nightfall came, I am truly moving further and further away from this temporal world and counting my days to the grave. After all that is where I and you -- all of us -- have to go, wrapped in a shroud. Then why lose time in running after worldliness like wild hunting hounds after a fox? Of what use? We have forgotten our sad ending and that is why there is so much inequality, injustice, wars, fueds, deception and evil in this world of ours -- more than at any time else. A visit to the graveyards also does not move us deep inside. Well, it has moved me a lot....The title of the poem is appropriately SO SADDENING...INDEED!

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