Soil made of son,
Descendants of Adam.
What’s the worthiness , when fresh will perish,
When power will relinquish,
Flesh will tatter.
Oh son of soil! Remember your real abode,
You’re a visiting visitor here.
After riding many cars,
You will mount on shoulders at last.
After many heartless walk on soil,
Soil will cover you in the last.
Be careful, here is smiling,
But there is not laughing,
Only laughable to the kind one.
Son of soil!
You kept dashing in life,
But your running will end in loop hole_
Indeed, is there congeniality between you and death,
Tell me, I may also wish to live eternity.
Or haven’t you noticed the growth of grey.
Is a sign of fast coming end.
Will you intake the phony of life,
And neglect the truth of there.
Hell and paradise are courtyard for all returnees,
Choose your comfort for your comfortability.
Your trait will show you your way.
Oh son of soil!
Busk to meet your builder.
He has the capacity to do or not.
Though, despite the density
Of His responsibility,
No vacancy for impossibility
On the day.
© Sulyman Ridwan (Mr. Sholey)
About the Author
