The weaver Kabir sends one message:
The noose of death hangs over all.
Only Rama’s name can save you.
Say it now

On the black night , money talks big
To withdraw itself , in black protest,
Protest into night, hungry for white.

Money has endless queues in a sun
For old man who has outlived work.
Holy city’s weaver cries out a name

Which is only truth, full and final.
Stand in queue for money to burn
On the river bank, for Shiva’s ash.

(In the holy city of Varanasi , corpses are taken in procession for cremation to the river bank amid shouts of “the only truth is Rama’s (God’s) name“)