Lekhny Story -19-Jun-2024

Name: Sree Varshini R Genre: Epic Poem Title: The Last Frame of Life

In twilight's grace, where shadows softly blend, A tale unfolds, of life’s impending end. Upon the canvas of the evening’s glow, The last frame of life begins to show.

The sun descends, a fiery chariot bold, Its golden rays now tinged with crimson gold. As day surrenders to the night’s embrace, So too does time bestow its final grace.

In meadows lush, where once youth danced in spring, The echoes of those joyous moments ring. Now leaves that fluttered green in gentle air Have turned to whispers of a past affair.

An ancient oak, its branches wise and broad, Stands sentinel, a witness, almost God. It knows the seasons, cycles come and go, And in its bark, the lines of life do show.

A river winds through valleys deep and wide, Its waters tell of journeys long and tried. Each ripple holds a memory, a trace Of love and laughter, sorrow’s fleeting face.

The heroes of the past, in armor bright, Their battles fought in honor and in light, Now rest in silent fields where poppies bloom, Their valor etched upon their earthen tomb.

Yet in the quiet of the gathering dusk, A different story starts to weave its musk. No longer battles fierce, or triumphs grand, But simple moments, clasped in frail hand.

A mother’s lullaby, a child’s first word, The silent language of the heart, unheard. A lover’s glance, a friend’s unwavering trust, These jewels of life, that time cannot adjust.

The aged artist, with a steady hand, Draws out the last, his finest work unplanned. His strokes are gentle, filled with wisdom’s touch, Each line a testament to life’s soft clutch.

Upon his canvas spreads a sunset bright, Not filled with sorrow, but a pure delight. For in this frame, the end is not a foe, But just a doorway to another show.

The birds that sing their evening’s final song, Do so with joy, for night is not so long. The stars will guide the way, a beacon’s light, Through the dark corridor of endless night.

In every breath, the essence of the past, A soul’s long journey, reaching home at last. No fear of shadows, nor of what’s to come, For life’s great symphony has just begun.

And in that final, precious frame we see, The boundless stretch of all eternity. A life well-lived, with love and truth entwined, Leaves a legacy of heart and mind.

So as the curtain gently draws to close, Remember this, as evening softly glows: The last frame of life is not an end’s decree, But the beginning of infinity.