"Bliss," Krutika Khatri, Fourth Grade, PS 139Q

Once an old man, betrayed by his own heir,

Was left bereft & in despair,

Until he knocked on heaven’s door,

And summon death to silence his core,

“O death” said he , “lay the icy hands on me

And from all these surly bonds, make me free”

“O old man “said death what makes thou summon me,

With sorrow written on the face of thee,

Thou had bliss throughout the verve,

This isn’t what you deserve,

Your verve was like paradise,

A common would be content even with its slice”

“That bliss” said the old man, "was materialistic”

“Now I feel that bliss is intrinsic(essential),

This humanity is very egotistic,

But for giving bliss, the society must be altruistic(unselfish).

Hence I can’t get my bliss from this populace,

Take me with thou to my makers place.”

Then in a golden chariot, he rode,

Straight to the heavenly abode.