Foundation, NJ  U. S. A


the Message Continues ... 5/73




Article 1 - Article 2 - Article 3  - Article 4 - Article 5 - Article 6 - Article 7 - Article 8 - Article 9 - Article 10 - Article 11 - Article 12




a poem by Okasha Naqvi 17, New Jersey

Across the evening plains,

and streams  full of black,

lay an old man tired,

stretched upon his back.

glancing up at the stars,

he wondered of life and time,

soon man would reach the Mars,

and more than I can rhyme.

the point is that this man saw,

more than the stars or the dark blue sky,

he saw that man was losing to himself,

and that his time was passing him by.

in leisures and expenditures man has lost his race,

instead inventing robots to do work for them with much more haste!

man has figured the gigabytes, and has learned every part of the cell,

but one thing he will seldom thinks about,

is the punishment of hell.

one day all these talents will rise,

and only drown them with obsession,

one day the race of man will die,

along with every posession.

to reach the stars we must not build ships of steel,

but rather read the word of God so our greedy hearts may heel.

by making money our status will not be raised,

it will only be elevated the day we correct our unmannered ways.

with a sigh this man stretched and fell back to sleep,

deeper and deeper into the ground,

in his grave, where he still cries.






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