The poet lies peaceful in death
Tranquil like a river sublime
This frame in rhyme he cannot etch
It arrived as fate of lifetime.

Oblivious of eyes that weep
He looks peaceful in sleep
Not a twitch from the finally locked eyes
To break open from serenity and rise!

He lies in bliss on flower bed
Soaked in the silence in his head
Of thin hair on skin no more warm
In emptied brain at end of term.

He till last (w)rite couldn’t tell
If his heart and head did coincide
The source of the ever ringing bell
Came from which mysterious side!

One more thing haunted his mind
Tormented till his delirious end
No answer to the dilemma he did find
Nothing for his soul to defend!

His creations did they hurt more than they healed
How many faces he lit up with a line
His verses flowing free willed
Did they bring clouds than sunshine?