I, The Son Of Fragile Mortality Poem by Nero CaroZiv

I, The Son Of Fragile Mortality

Rating: 5.0


I, the son of fragile mortality
A living soul and then nothing
me who would be cast as a die
standing and adoring the yellow sunset declines
and its long rays and shades the landscapes shines
to mark the barks of trees and flowers stems all with golden light
that lit the dark slant woods of dusk with silvery white
all quiet and calm before the moon takes its roll in the East
adoring all this holy scene I realized that
I am not even a leaf on the  blooming bough
Just not a part of this beauty and bloom

copy rights 2010

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Chinedu Dike 25 February 2017

Beautiful rendition of words to utmost justice. Dust to dust is a most. An insightful depiction of vanity upon vanity. Thanks for sharing Nero.

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