Strain

The strain is of living green in a gray beard
Through a dark tunnel of staring at end dead
And making a strain from it, to  light  music
As money lives on in mobile phones, in a joke 
Of wife carrying, if you can ,humorously said.

In a strain you live to die ,to cease to exist.
Crows are born but essentially cease to exist.
Their caws cease to exist even as they are born.
Crows caw in trees of praying temples to remind
People dead , their strains dead to their wind.

In strain , chicks are born to cease to exist
Their bird cries cease to exist as light music
In an air-conditioner’s silence in their homes.
Mother birds mournful cries drop dead on chicks.
They duly cease to exist even as they are born.
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