Tell me oh eyes, gentle of yours,
How the fear strokes your heart?
Tell me oh heart, beautiful of yours,
How the eyes unveil the creeping tragedy?
Tell me oh life, fragile of yours,
Do you feel redeemed?
The lightning patterns a branch,
The voice of thunder looms closer.
You pale; your bark explodes and splits,
You fall; and your breathing stops.
Scarlet floods the earth,
They snicker at the apocalypse of a bridge.
The heavens weeps and howls,
I answer your eyes, your heart;
Life draws you a close.
I ask your soul,
Are you flying with the angels?
You smile for I know not as;
I walk in the dust and you fly through the clouds.
—Nehapriaa
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A poetry for the little ones, the youth and the aged.
For the eyes those remained close, for the eyes those remained wide with no life drifting in them.
For the heart that ceased beating, for the souls that were ripped away from the flesh.
We are unknown of when, how and where;
We shall breathe the last or the beats of the heart nearest to the rear.
I wish for not one mortal with a soul to wrest my own away from my hands.
The aforesaid I wish on you and everyone else.
Though I pray and forgive; for it was already written on that book.
For; the preference of us or theirs is what the future see.
Life goes on yet in the end; gathers a close.
The immortal remains the spirit; for the life you decide for yourself on earth, brings you two separate paths.
To those who breathes I word; the now is yours.
Forever is where after the valley ends.
I shall be home resting with my Father on the flowery fields and walk beside still waters.
Or either my free will on earth shall bring me burns in the ocean of fire.