That place

Written by: BULUS REUBEN


Like a stillborn child they slept;
Their good and evils they 
couldn't do again.
In a place quiet, dark and 
lonely,
Where even prisoners are as 
free as kings.

Many hopeless people desire to 
go there and live;
Those who are grieved; who 
seek death.
The rich, the poor, the famous, 
the wretched; 
Those who prefer the grave to 
any treasure.

They desire to go there; 
A place with a mouth that 
never closes;
 Always open to recieve;
Always expanding to 
accomodate-
The vast populace trooping in.
 
How I hate to go there,
 The tombs stones and 
engravings;
Oh! what a terrible sight!  
Always, I pray earnestly,
Not to travel that to land.