Donot overule and defy, The truths of the sky, Life is although a mourn, One must hold its own, Either to curve the cheeks By winning what the heart seeks. Or by dropping wet eyelids, Because of the failed bids. Whatever turns might unfold, The twists the stars uphold In the canvas of life,being dredge He stands right at the edge  The son of Sun,the god of Death, He awaits to free the soul from breath, Out of the earthly thorns, That pricks the body drawns. Let Yama be the saviour, Of the pains and failure, That blood and frame binds, A man and his minds. He will lead to our end, But the deeds we earns and tend, Will withold our days in heaven, Or push us to a world deaden...!!!