1. Life

Life is but a fistful of dry sand
That slowly slips out of our hand
In all secretly subdued silence
Leaving a lesson in brilliance.

Time is fleeting by in his own pace.
Life too is flowing along in this race,
Leaving a trail of bitter and bad taste
For them who did it carelessly waste.

Life can be to thee a Hell or Heaven.
As it dawned on Adam when he’s fallen
After the Forbidden fruit he hath tasted
And the wrath of God he had thus invited.

Life can again be a friend or a foe to thee,
‘Tis all up to how thou do treat it really.
If lived each and every second pretty well,
Life can ne’er ever, my dear, be a dirty hell.