Dont Mourn The Saint Poem by asaolu kolawole ifedayo

DONT MOURN THE SAINT
Evening mourners! Why stay here till morn
to undress your feeble minds
weary and weeping
while gently like a warrior wind i pass
among the kindred of love and foe
i called; you sobs
by noon, you gropes
vanity of my goldly grave
stolen before the dream of date

an unforbidden voice
strangely like a frightened soldier
calling: O come! Come and let her rest
from all these toils and tears
and from all these massacre by guns
that only make her burden sleeps

to the breathing clock that paused
that know you now and I
when you weep and hold me dismay
my hand marries the air
and marvel at the intense of many mourners
while here with him i stand
and there with them you chide
forgeting the mystery of our tomb interval

in his bosom now i praise
praying many more feet the strait to race
where death and pains
do bowed to twilight grace
of second re-birth to plea
and journey with another angel
who shall transport me in light within
to kiss the golden lips of christ.
So pls, dont call me dead, for iam still beside thy pillow

By asaolu kolawole