Life's Memoir by Death

By Meghna Bakshi 

We are all stories, they say, 
written by life and by death;
Intricate threads of time,
unravelling with each breath.

Life’s pen is moved by fate,
as it battles death for a deeper ink;
Writing a million pages,
bringing us to the final brink.

But death is smart,
In itself a work of art;
Like a writer who couldn't read,
the most ethereal poems it weaves.

It writes of warm hearts with cold fingers,
In all space and time it forever lingers;
At our doorstop despite all our pleas,
Cutting life at its knees.

It eludes our thoughts with grand deftness,
Even the richest it then leaves breathless;
When life tries to catch up with its plans,
life vanishes as quickly as it ran.

We are told, we are reminded,
We are warned, we are chided;
Every angel, every demon
calls out the free will of men,

“Live now”, they say,
“Be happy and pray”
Life gives us one too many chances,
so why does melancholy fill our glances?

While the living mourn,
death writes the lore;
In all its stories
it is the armour life wore.

Maybe it protects us from life,
writes the end of all hate and strife;
After all, the sum of the game is zero,
and the writer of history is the battle’s hero.

In life and in death, they say,
we must go one way.