Friday, 30 May 2014

Felix Brambaifa

How come life
Is the medium of strife
The source of it all
The height of our very fall

If it is God's greatest gift
Then why is its charity adrift
And its values corrupted
Like evils will adopted

Unto a vile purpose
Intended for man's own lose
The very destiny of his being
The supposed fault of Adamic sin

No man can ask
That which to him is no task
For what is existence
If it was never by our insistence

Life is the makers jest
Lodged in man's panting chest
To find its complete ridicule
When death becomes the rule.