From the moment we are born
we begin to die.

The hours tick
The days go by
How often do we stop to think
Through hustle bustle
Face puffed pink
What’s the point of all this fluff?
What’s the use of all this stuff?
If we only live to die?

Oh What to do if there’s no choice
Death does ever claim each voice
Today
Tomorrow
Ten years from now
Will you know
When you’re to bow
Down before the Reaper?

Will it be your first
— or last
Surrender?

Will you go kicking
Will you go mad
Will you be sorry
For fights you had
Will you decide to strike it bad
Or lay down lonely still and sad

In that moment of first
— or last
Surrender.

Some would say its wise to die
Each time the Apple catches eye
Each time that fear sneaks in a try
Lest we forget the beauty nigh
Brought to Life
by Death’s Deliverance.

From the moment we are born
we begin to die.

— Mehta Mayah
2020