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And here the times come; The times you’ll stand tall, And yet your tears will fall. Not for being troubled, But blessings being doubled. Then you’ll remember how you did wait, Sometimes in the dew, With faith your only bait, Just to know when time is due. Those times shall come nevertheless; Where He will surely find you to bless. But will you be in too much hurry, Or will you take just a minute to tarry? Will you uphold that anchor, And still maintain your sense of humor? Will the virtue in you be forgone, Or your trust in God be forlorn? In those moments; When you have no more worry, May you not be too busy, But remember the monuments, That has brought you over the moon.

And here the times come; The times you’ll stand tall And yet your tears will fall. Not for being troubled, But blessings being doubled. Then you will have no more time; No more time for routines, Even the morning warm water and lime, And your favorite dawn gospel tunes. Will you have time for physique, Or your heart to God will turn oblique? Then will you miss your daily exercise; The payer that keeps you spiritual. Will the quiet time zeal turn skeptical? These times shall come nevertheless; Where He will surely find you to bless. But will you be in too much hurry, Or will you take just a minute to tarry? In those moments, When we have no more worry, May we remember the monuments, That has brought us Hunky-dory.

Most often than not,  Heroes do fade with their names unsung. But the shadows of their past, And the candles we light all night, Can at least serve as lyrics, To compose for their departed souls, A new song for us to be consoled. Patriots they’re now called, As dirty politics has now stalled. For once at most, We all agree to a toast, In solemnity and not at the bar, That this life is by far, An expedition with a divine illusion. Yes indeed they were; Heroes as we now call them. Not because it sounds like an anthem, But for the national emblem, They did responsibly revere. Was it the natural order? Is it because someone failed to bother? Was it their time? Are the questions we continue to mime. But will the answer save us a dime, As a nation in her own prime? Let the eight angels fly high, As families make a thirst quenching sigh, And create for them a legacy in perpetuity. For if we seek another opportunity, And let these men go forgotten, There shall be no more fallen angles from...

This is the lottery of life, That a lot of men,  Tend not to see as an Omen, Full of bliss but only strife. We either get to long live, Or soon forced to leave. Be lucky to be born, Or remain a spirit borne. But no matter how you came to exist, There’s only one way to exit. Through the tunnel of death, Whether neat or with dirt. So just in case you are here, And you have some fruit to bear, Let us get to taste you in due time. Whether sweet or as sour as lime. Breathe in more air, But in your heart, do not err. Enjoy life as a sweet aroma to smell, But for your sake, let no one else yell. Anytime you are angry, Just assume you’re hungry. Seek the bread of life if you can. Because vain life is just an empty can.