We'Ve All But Nothing Poem by Dimu Eric Olowo
We'Ve All But Nothing
For four score years
Was man made for the airs.
If he be lucky, though rare,
Live he four score and ten year
Before grim Death comes
A knocking for his dues.
Dues he must at all cost pay
For his soul is the prize of pay
Though he hath all wealth
Yet hath he nought-
In his vast heap of abundance
To tarry pale Death a stance-
As ransome for his departing soul
Fading away in deaths prowl.
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4/23/2024 9:03:25 PM # 1.0.0.1119
