The ancient Zulu say,
"What is the end of a man born of woman?",
A being brought forth in pain,
Welcomed with the cries of the mother,
From pain to pain,
End to end,
For the joy in between is corked with cries,
For the loved one is lost!
When the life gets snuffed out,
The precious breath of life taken off,
And down goes the body devoid of life,
The soul gets embalmed,
Laid in clean clear peace,
But the heart of it living ones lack balm,
Reaping pain and pain and pain!
When life still flows,
One is clothe in silks,
Purple linen and perfumed wool,
With edges glistering with pure gold,
But now down comes the beauty,
Burial shroud in place of silk,
Darkness shining brighter than light,
Nothing gives any pleasure,
Nothing makes meaning!