I wonder whether it was a dream or a forecast message! <br />A journey where it gleamed the keen aged passage, <br />Appeared on the right swathe with blessings – the heaven, <br />On the left – the silhouetted hell that threats like a raven; <br />In my front, stands with a murk glare, with a garland; angel of death. <br /> <br />I could remember the toilsome exertion of sowing the bed of seed <br />Where the rain, the season had left without any proper heed; <br />Though sprouts sprang out from that had been planted with zeal, <br />No flower bloomed, no fruits bore, not more a remedy to heal. <br /> <br />The enslaved, vigilant angle eager to learn the parts been done <br />“Time flew, your oomph slackened, a bow the back-bone gone <br />What’s stored! Whether still is it possible to stay awake in prayer? <br />Or will you like to be left with pleasure and rest at the bower? <br />Does not matter, my my works will let you free; let you wear my wreath.”<br /><br />Rex Islam<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-treatise-from-the-angel/
