Where death stares us in the eye

Where everyone must come to lie


Where silence reigns supreme

Where tears flow in streams


Where helplessness is everywhere

Where winds howl loud and clear


Where both young and old must go

If the angel of death tells them so


Where flowers blossom on graves

Where epitaphs catch our gaze 


Where the rich and poor are equal made

“With the poor crooked scythe and spade”

(Dr Shehzad Saleem)