The Odds of Death
Tell me not in mournful gongs
that beyond, a soul is gone.
sing not in gloomy tones
the farewel hymes of life
and let flow not from eyes, the ocean tears of loss.
lest to death we give
amazing praise untold.
Upon the cool of dark,
the souls of men depart.
against the wish of time,
some men choose to leave.,.
around abode of men,
the chill of grieve becloud.
all along the streets,
the mourners mourn aloud.
far beyound the gates,
the bearers bear in haste.
fast firm and hard,
the diggers dig in tears.
and the being is laid to rest.
Dying, a painful bye to life:
the exit soon on life,
the grievious mood of sobs,
the abstract flame that breaks ,
the bridging cord of love,
and the dying grips no more
on the solid cord of life.
Tick-tock-tick-tock,
the clock of life revolves.
sooner, sudden,quick,
the living being is gone.
beautys, precious, pure,
all soon like dust become.
and desolate lie the homes,
of all that lived on earth,
but now beyond abide.
Copyright © Lato Isaac | Year Posted 2007
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