Death is a formidable policeman,
Whose grip no mortal can evade;
Whose grip has ripped apart the strongest
In the midst of their prideful parade.
Men who had steel-like bodies
Died earlier than their own comrades;
Death cares not for young or old,
On each, equally, its shadow pervades.
When Death brings God’s summons
To take one to the Final Court;
Then it leaves one no options
But to submit and to report.
Then Death snatches a man from himself
And rushes him to God’s Throne on high,
Where Justice is fair and Equity is precise;
Where the Justified live and the condemned die.
© Domenic Marbaniang, Dec 16, 2014.