The world is vanity

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THE WORLD IS VANITY

The strength of a man is as seven days
He is so weak on his stands
The world provides not a stage to mount
Only for the tip of the iceberg to make a count
A man can be wise in his ways
But his thoughts can not be as the great king Solomon's
It is in his fate that love is not an active race
Rather, a passive pace for survival

What differentiates the dead from the living
When they both rest in darkness?
So as I sought privacy
I conceded privately
The wise is foolish in his own ways
Whereas the fool is wise in his own ways

The world is vanity
And so is he word
One would rest till eternity in death's cold hands
No matter the game one plays
Or the card he displays
The game would surely have an end
Even the sun rises to set

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