A muse on the past and future
Many who loved me are dead.
Many who I loved are dead.
Some who were dear and some
Who held me dear, elsewhere had gone.
I am pretty old, up with regrets.
I have an heir, who has no heir.
Who will leave first, wife or I?
How will the other digest that?
The connection made, collection stored,
And the recollection, what will happen to?
What is in store to suffer?
How safe I’ll die is the threat.
How horrible it’ll be is the threat.
A game is over; the mirth is over.
A hell or a heaven is the end.
Heaven and hell are same
As the liberated soul has no sense.
13.03.2001, Pmdi.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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