Eyes to the skies
Feet pounding the dusty paths
The tired souls march on
In the silence of the fading sun
In a duel of thoughts,
After the daily frustration of ambitions
At Industrial Area.
This is life,
So they say,
This is how it has always been
How our dads lived
The way we live
And so shall it ever be:
Where daylight gives in to dusk
Nights give in to sunrise -
Where at birth our deaths begin
And life goes on unperturbed -
Eyes lifted high
Feet pounding the dust:
A hasty procession towards the grave.
© Copyright 2016 John Wanjora. All rights reserved.
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