Go down stranded and fill thyself with tears,
Girdle thyself with sighing for a waist;
Upon the sides of merriment:
Seal thy lips and eyelids with tears, let thine ears.
Why has Thou taketh away from us, happiness?
Oh death! Where is thy might?
With thee, all frail, moonlight and sunlight.
Boom! You came and turned abode of joy to rumbles.
And weeping faces of allies,
With heat of lips and hair shed like flame,
In a uniformed garment, mourn, a soft shame:
As if it will awake his thine eyes.
How strange to think of death and demise
When shared memory hovers and lingers?
Where we enjoyed and dug our trenches
Death! Thou Art not Great but powerless
Mighty and dreadful? Thou Art not so
Like all, thou will die and must go
One short sleep for us and wake eternally and flow
And I shall condemn thee in that morrow.
Akindele AbdulQayyum Olalekan (Akinscoat)