Our to-do list is never complete,
From childhood, we engraved future
in our hardened heart
least erosion washed it not.
As we grow, reality hits us
like the bull kicked the runner,
the illusion of childhood becomes nightmare,
Everyone is scared to show their shortcomings.
We covered it with "it's the Lord's doing and
it is marvelous in our sight"
Lilliputian minds are we 😂.
Now as I write,
I knew my uncle was right,
when he promised and failed,
Reality is hitting him,
He rejected my calls and faced his golgotha.
Tomorrow is never a promise,
Yet we planned for morrow like creator,
And the grave remind our foot of six feet,
But we never care.
I wonder why God created night,
After my thoughts, I think it's our right,
But it illustrated the stage of the universe,
All were perfect at our birth,
Noon was filled with ardent pressure,
Then evening is filled with holy darkness and wickedness.
"No soul is strange to grave",
Life is full of striving and sorrow,
Walk like a warrior, bow your head in midst of
flying blade,
or the grave will have you in his belly.
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