Wanderer, Death Is At The Door. Poem by Oke Christopher

Everyday I breathe, because breath is in my nostrils.
Everyday I spin along with the earth's rolling frills.
Yesterday, today and tomorrow's game
All so different but much the same.
The path leads to Nod,
All for ignorance I follow the path Cain trod.
Seeing that life is as long as as soon as we die
I wander in Nod like a bird with nowhere to fly.
The Horizon is empty,
Time rolls by and I know not if my patience waits or wastes my piety
For everyday the clouds climb past the moor,
Sometimes laughing, others solemnly saying: 'Death is at the door'.