When The Strong Hands Become Weak

in Hive Poetry5 months ago

Have you been weak before?
Have you been strong before?
Have you been sick before?
The health is an indication of something.
So, are wealth and peace of mind.

We work out all our youthful years.
Still hoping to enjoy in our old age.
But when the times keep drawing near.
We realise that we have laboured for nothing.
We labour for the wealthy,
Who gifts us peanuts?
And dance in joyous sorrow.
Believing that everything will be great.

We labour out our youthful strength,
And some will still labour in vain,
On those fresh sweet fruits that give sweet bitter pleasure.
Some transcend to the other realm.
While some die without completing that realm.

It is not a do-or-die affair.
But something, that will keep reminding us of the life that,
We fake to live.
The life, that we fake to survive.
The life, that we fake to love, just to be loved.
And the life that gives us death as the reward for living.

That death comes knocking at everyone's door.
It is left for you to embrace him or not.
Even if, you don't, he will surely do that.
For no charm can stop death from calling you.
Nature has done it so.
You were born in nature.
You existed in nature.
You love in nature.
And you shall die in nature.

But the endpoint is that the strong hands at birth,
Will certainly become weak and helpless at death.
For nature has made it so.