We have no option,
but to heed it Call,
The cold chilly Voice
Of Death, that
Death calls us with,
When our time comes,
Beckoning unto Us.
Pulling Us deeper as our time
Has arrived, to acsend
Into the Great Beyond.
With no one to run to,
Or save us from the cold
Fingers of Death, for our time is over.
Death starts to wrap around us.
We Slowly Slid away, with our
final Goodbyes said in a sullen
State, Death takes us away.
When our time comes, and
Our stay here on earth is
Over, and it dawn's on us, that
The time Is near, we try to evade
Death's Call. But all to no avail, in the
End Death prevails, for it has
Been ordained by our Creator,
That our time shall come.
Many try to avoid it, running medicines
and sciences,to keep death at Bay, but
Death Only becomes more persistent,
For our Creator has made it Ascertained
For surely a time shall come when every
One Is to obey the The cold voice of Death.
Whether Big or small, Great and
Ungreat, Poor or Rich, Wealthy or
Unwealthy. Pastor or imam, President
Or Citizens, Small or Old, Young and
Grown.One thing is certain, our time shall
Come.
