The world may be better.
If we never had any hope in it.
If we were never taught to hold so tight
If we never believed it’s do or die.
If only we were told of possible hopelessness.
And warned to be weary of despair.
The world could be better.
If we were raised to keep hopes low
If we were never made to believe the hierarchy of death.
Old age is the only criteria for death.
And fast forward.
The youthful live wasted away.
Some playgroup members died a year ago.
It was because they had so and so sickness.
“I shall not die, my time is not now”
Who promised you tomorrow?
One of the debt you owe.
It’s your soul.
You were bestowed at a time you knew not.
It shall be taken.
Forcefully or gently
At a time you don’t have an idea.
Your Lord will bring you to account.
For this soul, alongside all that comes with it.
It is a loan. And was never your own.
كُلُّ نَفْسٍ ذَآئِقَةُ ٱلْمَوْتِۗ وَنَبْلُوكُم بِٱلشَّرِّ وَٱلْخَيْرِ فِتْنَةًۖ وَإِلَيْنَا تُرْجَعُونَ
Every soul will taste death. And We test you with evil and with good as trial; and to Us you will be returned.
Pen Roll (Aaminah Qasim Oniwarere.)
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