Near To The End Poem by Eric Zinbabora Batung

Man was made forever to live,
But with birth he was meant to die.
Yet both life and death, in Eden they were created.
Life the means, death the end.
So we are, born to march onto death.
At the peak of life I see death so near.
See then how near to the end we are.

A tree is planted, its roots watered.
Its flowers sprout to the sun's glory.
The green begins to gray.
Then they wither to the sand.
Oh! So just beyond the green was the gray.
See how near to the end the tree is.

A baby is born new.
It grows and learns that one day it will die.
So it lives forever with it.
At the beginning of his life, yet his end he knows.
For it, his very heart beats.
He bursts out full of life to exhaust his days.
As he grows so he grays.
Then to the end his life ebbs.
The hands that made the cradle shall dig the grave too.
Finally we come to see how near to the end his life is.