Morning Song To The Mourning. Poem by Darlington Chukwunyere

It's a road we must all ply. A mortal can neither fight Time, nor fly without wings into the sky, for no man can upon the winds, rely. Even though we cry for the loss, the spilt milk is o're and gone beyond and beneath the crust. All we can do is watch, pray, and wait for our own burdens to lose weight and the time to leave this place. Cheers my dear, no tears my dear; God is all ears to your fears. He'll never let your soul tear appart.