A short road we all walk
A short road we all walk, blinded yet straight
Long as it can be our thoughts yell the deceit
What does man live for? Such a question strikes the astute
The Clock stops singing, calm is the room.
Pity! the wailing women screams, distinct and resonating
The tune of fools she mocks the asleep
Longing for a second to still but not the Clock’s will
The road must continue whether its end has come
Distant in the corner, bliss fills the aroma
What profound sound sings the choir,
though the Clock has sung its last hour
There is no sorrow present among the pyre.
What is this divine joyous hope?
That waters the mourning soul
Fear not, such hope comes above
Its reward shall never stop
Two different realities between two different families parting their love ones
