The Hooded Man With the Sickle
The hooded man with the sickle
He comes without invitation
He drops in on all kinds of people
And takes them with no hesitation.
The hooded man with the sickle
He might dropp by your place tonight
He may meet you on the road you take
And today, He may snuff out your light.
Live your life like there's no end-
Be ruthless and nasty with your ways,
But when you meet him around the bend
From the hooded man you can't run away.
We all will meet him, no matter what-
Poor, rich, famous or otherwise,
When he swings that sickle, you know that
You breathe your last and close your eyes.
........................ ..........................
'There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven...a time to be born, and a time to die...'
Ecclesiastes 3: 1
July 14,2009
Cabantuan City
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Added by Poetry Lover
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