Your true friends will you not know
Until you have died a little
And are mercifully resurrected
So, to weigh your hangers-on
On the fair scale of loyalty,
Ask for the godly favour of a temporal demise
So that you won't be as one
Of the several overpriced players
In the premiership league of life
Who are daily misled
By the elaborate fanfare of fake affection
That accompanies many a success
Who are mostly abandoned
When their tides of fortune turn low
And the waves of living become malevolent
Making them desolate
I pray, therefore, that you die a little
And resurrect thereafter
Becoming wiser for your own good.
(c) Chris Jibero.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem