The Great Struggle Poem by Godfrey Morris

Ancient eyes descend upon the sons and daughters
of men.
They sweat and toil
Bearing a beast of burden.
Tilling the merciful soil
For the substance of existence
The bread of life.
I stare upon the weary faces
Eventually succumbing to the
Pressures of this world.
(The fight of good and evil) .
The choice of life and death
Decided upon this battle field.
I see joys and sorrows
The ultimate faith for
A better tomorrow

This cherub envy these sons of men
For I bask only in the glory
and presence of light.
And not in these painful plights.
I will never see a love one die.
I can only imagine then hope to cry.