Lady, I see,

But I don’t know you.

Yet, you have captured my attention.

You, like I, live where nothing remains new.

From the perils of life, we can find no protection.

Lady, I see,

 But your child is dying.

You don’t see, you believe he sleeps.

No barter for his survival will be coming.

Life’s plucked too soon and its petals fall in heaps.

Lady, I see,

 But I can’t reach out.

I, like you, haven’t enough to give.

Survival of the fittest isn’t what life’s about.

Mishaps, slaughter, disease, and old age are our sieve.

Lady, I see,

But no one survives.

Not you, me, not the poor, nor the rich.

Yet, some live, as if death won’t take them.

What’s its purpose, its meaning, why’s death a hitch?

Lady, I see,

 But the spirit will survive.

God saved it.  I only painted it on canvas.

When is it finished?  When will our spirit arrive?

Time ends, but we need not fret; the Lord has saved us.