A Time To Mourn
There’s a time and place for everything;
or so the Scriptures tell;
a time to laugh; to cry; and sing;
even a place called hell.
All our lives are divided into seasons;
each one of them has a purpose;
only the Master understands reasons;
in the essence of time; they surface.
There’s a time to live; and a time to die;
a time for peace; and a time for war;
it was never meant that we reason why;
death stands ready to open his door.
All seasons are constantly coming and going;
only the Master knows just why;
while life’s flowers are blooming and growing;
then comes the season we die.
We spend all our time, trying to conform;
till the season for tragedies come;
ushering within us, a time to mourn;
when love bonds us all, as one.
It seems, to us, this season ought be omitted;
for life, within it, is never the same;
the season when much heresy is committed;
as many tend to give God the blame.
The time to mourn is the most bittersweet;
it binds us closer to God above;
despair is where we and our Master meet;
for it is the season of love.
Monty 11/11/24. # 2,439