We wipe our shoes to remove the dust
We wash our attire to clean the dust
We cover our faces to avoid dust
We all may someday, turn to dust.

Both of my parents have turned to dust
Most of my relatives have turned to dust
Some of my friends have turned to dust
We all may someday, turned to dust.

Source of our food comes within the dust
Source of our shelter comes within the dust
Everything on earth ends turning to dust
Everyone’s final form is the dust.

Mighty kings are infirm under the dust
Rich and poor lie close under the dust
Rivals become friends under the dust
Equality is the law under the dust.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem

This Poems Story

Transient nature of everything