Poetry

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GENTLE SOUL
ON A
STATIC SOIL !

What else could it do?
The fleet is gone
and the soil will no longer
Honour its skills.

The lion is lying calmly,
And about, its preys play freely
Within and without its territory,
But its prowess is now history.
Death tends to sweep away
A man’s relevance
And end its influence.

Those whose influence and relevance
Still matters after death,
Have bought a part of the future by their past.
But for how long
And what type!
Those that makes sour tears!
Or the type that gives heart a peace!

Dear Lord, give me grace
To explore all given opportunities
to the fullest
Of your expectation;
In this one life of mine,
In the land of the living.

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