Writers have written and gone away,
Poets have versified and drifted too,
Yet the soulful voice that comes from the heart,
Is destined to be remembered till the Last Day.
O my beloved, you were my friend,
Then the prettiest dame who came my way,
Let our love too be like the soul-filled song,
Which, till eternity, retains its sway.
Everything is doomed to be destroyed, they say,
Yet the Will of the God of all does stay.
Has He not told us of the blissful abode --
It is just the opposite of Hell
Paradise -- The Garden of Eden --?
The beautiful place where we will always be loved.
Like the soulful song, above the top most cloud.