Sonnet- The Humbled Shalt Be Exalted

The wheel of time must turn around though slow; Our palate must be curbed, also our tongue; Some things we fear, we sometime undergo; None can remain forever always young. The curses of the poor and innocent Will boomerang like arrows back to bow; The mansion will some day become a tent; To condescend we learn, no other go. Repent, we must on earth before our death; The sins of yester-years will haunt like ghosts; Like re-charged batteries, we must save our breath Before we leave for good, our earthly posts. All men are mortal, yet given a soul; Heaven or hell will be our final goal.