The Life Of Man Poem by Barima Basoah

A spirit living in a dust,
nothing but a weak mortal,
nothing but a rotten flesh,
blossom as desert's full moon,
gone as air blows dust.

Poor as naked, desirous as hell,
extreme effort yields only a taste,
fight for a whole bowl your end,
your only true possession is fear,
a never sure hope keeps you but a moment.

You travel in time as you live in time,
life here is a brief commute,
you live only in the day,
and you die pitifully at night,
you live only and unknowingly just a day.


From the collection: MAN, KNOW THYSELF!
An Ecclesiastical collection of Man's Life on Earth