Most of us are afraid of death. We are so fretful or worried to get old because we are afraid to put an end on our time. But, I tell you the truth, death is inevitable and not eminent. It can happen everywhere in anytime so, live our lives to the fullest.
We cannot see the significance of life on the air we breathe in but when the air is taken off. In short, we can only see the significance of life when we are nearly to be in the coffin or when we are in that box of seclusion.
Many people were asked about the meaning of life: "What is the meaning of life for you?" And many random answers that point out something about success, happiness, love, family, wealth and many mundane things. But, if I will answer that one, my answer may go this way: "Life is experiencing life itself. That means we need to experience the roller coaster of the journey from the day we sprung to the day of fall. We can say the meaning of life when we undertake ups and downs, sunshine and rain, sunrise and sunset because how will we say 'I have a meaningful life' if we don't know what is and what is to be meaningless."
We can only see the meaning of life when we are in the shadow of death, when we are drown of agony.
For you, what is life?
AGE-FALL
Withering name of a rosy lip.
Youthful wrinkles
Like a bark of a tree, of her era.
Sickled leaves, fall and heap,
Nothing left, a crippled roots.
So as sadness comes
Or gratification calls,
But ought to spring forth tenderness.
Whether she insist, beauty fades out,
Lonely and unhappy: the hue of life
Of olden times, of her times.
Flowers withered and fall,
Thawed, wrinkled and faint
So she is
Looking behind the warmness of sensibility...
Memories fade, she's suffering from oblivion...
Looking forward the coldness of passivity
Of coffin, of secluded life.
This poem is ranked SECOND in a poetry contest sponsored by The PPC Community. Hope you like it. 🥰
❤️
AUTUMN
❤️
Dedicated to BloomingPoems
Groping in the dark of oblivion,
Who am I? The question of inadequacy.
I open my eyes to see even a speck of light,
Lost I was! Past coming back no more,
Foliage of my history begins to fall
As winter is near to come, so my time.
I tried to escape the box of seclusion,
But it keeps chasing me.
The trunk of my strength wilted;
My roots crippled; I am...
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The Unknown Poet: Untold Soul
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