Death

 

She waits beyond the veil so bright,
The Mother is draped in endless light.
Her ముక్కుపుడక (nose ring) shines majestically,
Even a fleeting thought of it can light the way.

She shaped this vast and fleeting ground,
Where forms may rise, where echoes sound.
She lets them wander, run, and stray,
Yet watches close, not far away.

And when the bubble breaks apart,
Illusions fade, and the stage departs.
She stands with arms so strong, so wide,
To take them into her warm embrace.

Yet never does she halt or chain,
Some may wish to play again.
Each time they see her, bright and vast,
Their steps erase, and forget the past.

It takes great strength, a steady mind,
To break the spell, to look, to find.
To see what was, to stand and stay,
And not heed the call to drift away.

But those whose hands bear not a stain,
Who leave no mark of loss or pain,
Who harm no field, nor beast, nor breath,
She lifts beyond the grasp of death.

And once within her boundless space,
No step remains, no fleeting trace.
For they are not, nor stand apart—
No role to play, no name, no part.

They are the light, the vast, the whole,
No thread to weave, no tale to toll.
No coming, going—just the sea,
Where all dissolve, yet all still be.