POEM
Cricket, it is said, is a game of
glorious uncertainties.
Life, I mean, existence
too is a game of uncertainties
inglorious uncertainties.
Though a man/woman finds time
to condole the death
of others known to them
he/she hesitates to ponder over
his/her own death.
When, where, how
his/her ‘silent visitor’
approaches each of them
with whispering foot-steps reaches
he/she
and orders to follow Him.
Both he/she knows only one truth
the certainty of His arrival at
any time, any place
and due to any cause.
If each thinks
about the time, place and cause
uncertainty looms large
on the horizon
of each one’s mind.
Yes, existence is a game of
glorious uncertainties
if only a man/woman is prepared to
accept the truth with equanimity…..
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