Hevel

Life is like living Hevel,
Eternally changing form,
Influx, always, in devel,
Joyous life to mournful storm.
Three factors that seed this truth:
That time always marches by,
Odds of Chance puzzle the sleuth,
And all are bound to die.

'Forcomers are forgotten,
Like them, we share the same fate,
Gift that is to be gotten,
All lost at a future date,
Lost to falling sands of time,
We are recognized no more,
Those after share the same grime,
Erased- like prints on a shore.

Flowers grow; bloom; then will fade,
Stars form new stars in the sky,
Water cuts rock like a blade,
Forming a new Earth, hereby.

Life is like living Hevel,
Blinding what path is to come,
Lines lack a guiding bevel,
Die is cast for unknown sum,
Life seems solid- can't be grabbed,
One's hands slip through it like smoke,
It seems beautiful or crabbed,
On what changing fogs invoke.

The declaration of life-
Binds all- unforgiving chance,
The Safe can die by the knife,
Rich can lose all forms of finance,
The Wise can starve and suffer,
The Good- tortured by evil,
Hevel- life has no buffer,
Lacks justice or reprieval.

Twenty-one feet head- what is seen,
One can't see- nothing is shown,
Two minutes ahead is unseen,
Nothing is written in stone.

Life is living Hevel, true-
Holds the darkest of fate,
The pale horse looks for us too,
Bring all to judgment's grand gate,
Like mist, all will disappear,
Doctor Death gives his treatment,
It can be those you hold dear,
Such acts you can not prevent.

Death- is like a thief in the night,
Comes when you are unprepared,
Time has been chosen; the site,
Waiting- get what it declared,
Many run or try to plea,
But Death does still comes; doesn't care,
Lender collects its decree,
Ending life's living flare.

Ticking, toking, and chiming,
The clock's dreadful hands draw near,
Final hour has its timing,
Yet, the hour- very unclear.

Grimful words declared are true,
Straight as a well-placed arrow,
Known yet understood by few,
Truthful path is slim- narrow.