The Old Frame Poem by tejiri pius kigho

Seasons come and go, day must overthrow the night from it's throne and night in turn pay's it full in it's own coin.Buy our hands the seed is murdered by the soil, but tomorrow resurrection knock's at it's door, for it's destiny must follow the paths it once trod.If on this day light fades from my view, the pastures glamour with the desert's garment, on my shadow I lay and become one in body, water is wine and wine is water, and my soul bids my body farewell, my spirit gives my body a good-bye kiss for all to see that every fiber of my soul rebelled to change, but my size and looks, they choose to hook their lips to it's feets, for once they took a step out the old door and never did they return to a home they once belonged.All yields to the command of change, perhaps, but like the ever-blue sky is the old me in the old frame.