Autumn In Life
A man I see, with clothes tattered
Empty stomach, wanting eyes, grey hair scattered
Wealth he seeks not, nor desires any comfort
What he aspires, is his death, to avert.
Stood he, in the midst of my way
Giving his words of a heavenly pray
Slowly, trembling, hi heavy hands rose
With no choice but this way to pose.
'Sir'' humbly he said, 'This wrinkled face
Has once been the sign of baronial grace
And prosperity gladly dwelled at my palace
My neck unbowed standing on fame's terrace.
These were the hands of pride and ego
That let the mercy and pity by me go,
And doped my conscience for an unfair time
That saw humanity bleed, scream in painful rhyme.
Then the wheel of fortune at once turned
And bereaved me of what I had earned;
Wealth I lost, wandered for my own people
Slowly descended my life and became dull.
This day, I am standing before you, my lord,
Mourning my fate, joining time's broken cord.
Now, I sublimate my soul by saying so fair
From zenith, no human for nadir should uncare.