Days on Earth

Our days on earth are fleeting
A mere whisper on the breath of time
The fragility of the soul is akin to the papery wings of a butterfly
We delude ourselves with the fancy that our souls are ours to keep
But they do not belong to us
They belong to the creator
Who will recall us at will
Whether we be errant or willing
Greater humankind dwells within a mirage of frivolity and base desire
Hardly paying heed to pleas of his brother
For freedom, for justice, for the right to live in peace.
Human life has become cheap
We die like flies being swatted by the giant hand of greed and intolerance.
The earth is shrouded in a great cloud of fear
Slowly moving lower to engulf the hearts of the innocent
And where death is welcomed as an end to tortured existence.