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Remember your Creator,
Throughout the days of your youth;
Before an instigator,
That evil makes it uncouth.
I have no pleasure in them,
Before the light of the sun;
That darkened clouds would condemn,
After what the rain has done.
In the day when the keepers,
Of the house what would tremble;
Strong men become grim reapers,
The grinders will assemble.
Those looking through the windows,
Will be keeping their doors locked;
Because what God only knows,
Where the wicked men have flocked.
When the grinding sound is low,
One rises to hear the birds;
And the daughters sing below,
Thinking of the holy words.
They are fearful what is high,
And terrors are in the way;
Hearing of their mournful cry,
As sin seeks to make them stray.
The almond tree shall flourish,
The ant shall drag its dead weight;
People go home to nourish,
Mourners waiting for their fate.
The silver cord is snapped,
The golden bowl is broken;
As a person is entrapped,
And told when God has spoken.
The dust returns to the earth,
The spirit returns to God;
That has been given new birth,
Erased where they had been flawed.
Vanity of vanities,
All is vanity as said;
Life of humanities,
From birth until you are dead.
Copyright ©2022 Richard Newton Sherrer
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The Twilight of Life
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