No, my dear.
Though the sun will always rise,
Can you predict those that’ll bring tears to your eyes?
No, I surmise.
I can predict that man will fall,
And fall,
Will he rise after it all?
Once more will he begin?
When he’s lost the ability to catch the air;
Will he care?
He may shoulder the blame,
Scream silent with reverberating frame,
Become self-imposed lame,
And may rise again and again.
A life will begin and same said will end,
In degrees,
Can you light bend?
Catch the leaf in the breeze?
Can you predict what another fears?
Catch every one of their tears?
Count for their years?
The spring is fed from the living then depleted by the dead,
Death in living only for the thoughts in our head.
Division of white and black blends to gray,
Will I hold onto the fray?
I think nay.
Rainbows in the shades.
Written by: Marshall G. Kent Sr.
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
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