Often times when we glance at the mirror
Staring through its lens in powdered face.
We marvel, we wonder and ponder
Over the physical flesh.
O! Do you sometimes cry
Wishing you were carved from the finest of marble,
Or you smile when showers of compliment flood your being?
If only beauty was an antidote to death,
What would have been the faith of an ugly lass who walked the street?
So we eat to keep fit
And swallow pints of pill
To keep the body,
And care not of the withering soul.
If only the sight of a man's muscle
Who has made a home of the gym could scare off death
What would have become of a man who is as lean as a broom?
So here I sit
In this dark night
Staring at the candle light,
Listening to my thumping heart
Linking mortality to futility.
I can only reach you through words
I can only implore your mind
To trace back its step to reality.
All the clamouring,
And all the grumbling
Of being ugly or beautiful
Bothers not the treacherous death.
When the body remains still
And there seems to be no air in your lung's fill,
Then you realise that this body is meant for the maggot's fun,
When interred to mother earth.