Man grapples, lost within his own,
Unsure where he's from, or where he's flown,
In the present's grasp, he stands askew,
Not knowing where, in life's path, he's due.
All Roads Lead to Death
In the twilight's hush, where shadows creep,
A tale of life's journey, in slumber and sleep,
"All Roads Lead to Death," the title we claim,
A journey we all take, in life's cryptic game.
From the cradle's embrace to the world we embark,
With hope in our hearts, through the light and the dark,
We wander and wonder, our paths intertwined,
Yet in the end, a common fate we'll find.
Through forests of dreams and deserts of doubt,
We travel these roads, both within and without,
With laughter and tears, through the years we are led,
But remember, dear traveler, we'll reach death's bed.
For life is a riddle, a winding, strange quest,
Where each twist and turn puts us to the test,
And as we draw near to that final breath's breath,
We discover the truth, that all roads lead to death.
But fear not the end, for it's part of the rhyme,
In the grand scheme of things, it's a moment in time,
So cherish the journey, in each fleeting breath,
And embrace the bittersweetness of this pun-laden death.
P.S.
The painting is around three years old. But the poem, an excerpt from a work on 'Death,' comes fresh from my pen.
