The days of men are not measured by the skillful designs on their waist lines
neither is it determined by the outnumbered stretch marks on their weary breasts.
The days of men are few as a disguised lighted wax on a candle
and as the slugs that melts away as it moves along.
Therefore,
time is not an ally of men
but a hostile friend that robs us of living.
Time is death in memory
so, live it right
forgive often
and love more in discernment.
Michael Kwaku Kesse Somuah
Aka Poet et Cetera
AD 2025
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