Death, You'll Die!

You'are mortal,
Bound to die a day.
You are far from artist,
With his work he keeps you at bay.

The artist drinks life to the brim,
You just can't touch his fame.
As you kill body,
But just can't touch his name.

You harm the soul of near and dear,
But the harm's ephemeral,
Soul overcomes the harm
Which causes for you an alarm!
To disappear.

Stabbing in the back,
You coward!
Never move an inch to the artist,
From the richest riwards of the world.

You're forgotten,
In a course of time flatten,
You become distasteful to all,
The artist is reminiscenced by all.

Climb down you, death,
From your distasteful position of pomp and proud,
At last you'll die
And nomore seen in immortal crowd.

M. S. Bhandari