The mood is somber
Streets are empty; doors bolted shut
Behind those bolted doors terror reigns supreme
Souls are struggling for answers
Music playing eerily in the dark morgue
The crescendo of evil intent
Those organizing cemetery welcome parties are in frenzy
The guest list keeps increasing incessantly
This darkness is very dark; the scientist is blank
Is this not the time to be humble?
Is this not the time to acknowledge the supremacy of God the Creator of all things?
Shall we continue to be smart in our foolishness and perish?
Phillip Nine Mafunga
22 April 2020
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem