Departed
Mortal bodies shall not last
A tree with life shall wither still
Yes, man shall be the grass
Death is air, against man's will
Screams and wails bid departed child
Goodbye. Shock and fear dig a vacuum in
Comrade's heart. Three market days mild
The pre-consuming pain, death is an abhorrent sin
But to live forever would be a futile
World, and man shall neither fear
The Deity nor pray; Lord this brutal
World should pass away, in despair
Man shall become dust, yet peace
Like a river shall flow if life never cease
Copyright © Ingibo Benson | Year Posted 2011
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