LAST DESIRE
P. R. MOHAN RAO
Death rattles at his door knob
Breath in him sinking low
Eternity whispers into his ears
“Return to thy folds, thou art sent from
here”
Yet the dying man
Is least worried about the new horizon
That may open before him or not
It may be total darkness, or flood of light
He knows not what!
But a strong desire chisels his heart
“I must be remembered”
Men may come and men may go
Generations made, generations unmade
Yet, the basic desire in the human heart
Remains the same
Let him be theist or atheist.