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THE OLD ARE GOING : SONNET 65

The old are going their life at finish line,
No musing if they made it to the Stand 
Or lagg'd behind those others who did shine
In limelight of their unique feats and brand.
Their shriveled face, hollowed eyes, fallen teeth 
Let them not pull out their nerves either way --
No curse, no oath, no laughter underneath 
Their tattered lips or grief on deadened eye.
As final inks of tawniness fast fleeing
Their hugely claimed life of immortality,
They pray to get rid of dishonour of dying 
And shut them out of the world of mortality...
They're going; let them go wreath on for their soul.
Let the truth of life define us and our goal.

-- N. P. SAMAL 

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