Ashes and Echoes

 

In mother’s womb, we all arrive—
No gold, no gems, no wealth to thrive.
Though kings may reign with treasures grand,
They leave it all with lifeless hands.

 

When death arrives, both rich and poor
Must pass the same unguarded door.
No coin, no note, no trusted friend
Can follow where the journey ends.

 

The body burns, the ashes fall,
And silence wraps around it all.
What’s left behind, the world will claim—
Another’s hands, another name.

 

It may be spent, it may be lost,
The dead can’t question what it cost.
But charity, when done with grace,
Outlives the man—it holds its place.

 

A deed well done, a gift well given,
Is wealth that walks the path to heaven.
For better we share while we are here,
Than leave it to those we never held dear.

 

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