Basket of Joy
Too much sun we cry
We cry for rain in return
Heavy cloud and rain we cry
We cry for sun again
Harmattan with cold breeze
We think of sun
At birth pillars laugh
At death mourners lament
By growth we laugh at
A stand still we complain
Even as too much growth gives
Many burden
Disease is a regret and by peace
And love we exist like politics and wealth
At war and natural clash we hook doom
With ceremony we celebrate
At fatal accident we burn with
Passions of pity
Sickness is a change and repentance
Is cheap at sick bed
What then is life all about
A basket of joy and later
A basket of pins of pains
Purpose is not action
But action is from purpose
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