I am writing this by the cowshed,
watching them nibble hay with relish,
I do not wonder how it tastes - the hay,
Of what use is to wonder how dry grass tastes?
Instead, I am thinking about a grander theme
-mortality
Not only is life too short but it's
like a candle in a whirlwind
We don't think about our end often enough,
instead we live oblivious of that random
day when someone of our vital organs
Shall refuse to function,
some of them will grind to a halt abruptly,
some will make us endure pain,
long-drawn visits to the infirmary,
drain finances only to give up in the end,
It will be painless for the departed,
only the living will count the blessings,
which might just that you are gone, and not them
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