Written With Ink
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Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal
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At heaven’s door
God asked poor
How did you live life?
“Hard way, like on edge of knife”
To another man same question
He kept quiet and did not mention
“I slept merrily and happily”
Father had left plenty
Third one was gambler
I put all money in tumbler
Remained awake whole nights
Had no time but was picked to be right here
God thought for a second
Why did I prefer them to send?
If they all had no time to think
Why here it self their fate was not written with ink?
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