We must die
Yet, for our words won't dry
On the blank sheet's of papers

Endlessly the poesy
Shall remain
Even in the aftermath

From all those poems
Who were given birth from a poet writer
They shall remain

When the poets breathe no more
The poems will breathe
For Eternally ....

Yet, the words will stay and remain the same
But the thoughts
Will speak to those whom read the poet's  poems

So, we shall write till the end
Even if we are reborn
And don't remember who we were in the aftermaths

Therefore our words live on
So, let us the poet's writers give a gift
To the poems