The light that is extinguished vanishes
It shall not go beyond the graves,
For it was never born, nor did it die.
We live in deeds, not in years.
The time trodden by the feet of death,
Can never be imprinted on the sands.
The deeds live there after in memoirs,
So the souls too live in memoirs of life.

Who says souls die? They never die.
They live in the throbs of your heart,
They only re-unite with life.
Death is a media,
To freshen the life that has been lived.
It is a step to a new living,
It is a mortal image of those that live.
For only they die who live,
Bodies die souls live.