I stood across the by-road
Opposite the catacomb
Of the city.
A question struck me,
Was death really peaceful
Or was it tragic,
Leaving behind the ones you love?
I suddenly felt
As if, a pair of eyes
Were staring at me
From the catacomb,
Happy and smiling
The shadow whispered
“Death is eternal slumber,
Free from the woes of the world
As tranquil as the forest
As calm as the dew drops settled on the tips of leaves.”

.    .    .