GLORIOUS misfortune.

I remember vividly; back then…
I was all glory; I had wings and so much luster.
A bright shining star.
And expectantly, I walked haughtily in a cloak of pride.
Thinking myself a Mozart Wolfgang or a Beethooven
composing the symphonies and melodies of my Life
the orchestrator of my achievements.
Not until I started to erode;
My wings fell off, my shine was murky.
I was a Samson whose locks were given a clean shave;
From whence, I struggled but to no profit…
Like pushing a mighty castle wall.
Or a veteran scuba diver who couldn’t save himself in swimming pool.
Then, I knew God was behind every man’s greatness.
These were clear signs, I embraced it.
A chance to choose humility.
And let my patience fuel my faith.
My hope and perseverance, the ignition.
As I chase God’s grace like a Bugatti with no sympathy.
I believe better days will sprout from these algorithms of misfortune.
The downfall of a man should make him think twice.
Is there any hassle that never teaches a lesson?

HARSH REALITY

When the second ticks astray.
When the heart beats away.
My soul falls to knees, weakening.
These days, time is growing stingy.
And I am getting closer to expiration by the ticking.
Its deafening steps are echoing louder, drawing nigh than I ever thought.
It’s so scary, people wither away so quickly like leaves in Harmattan.
And vanish rather mysteriously like vapour.

It’s a reality.
The richest of mankind can’t bargain their way out.
The most powerful have all failed to conquer it.
Skilled surgeons can’t avert it.
Nor can the wizards…
Every man succumbs to its summons.
One day I’d lie in a narrow chamber.
Inhumed in the earth, all alone with my deeds.
Yea, the tears will soon dry up, and the mourning will cease.
And soon enough, I will be forgotten like nothing.
Thank God, some will still remember me… in prayers.

Most of us are victims of its terror.
Mother is turgid with grief anytime I leave the house.
That I might not make it back home.
We try so much crafting mechanisms to secure ourselves.
Thinking we’d increase our life spans; am sure death always flexes a grin…
… At our futile efforts; it never changes a thing, its destiny.
Sometimes, I am scared, not of death.
But that I haven’t done enough.
To please my Lord and earn a place of ease in the afterlife.


It’s hard to wonder;
These achievements I chase will someday fall to ground like dust.
My countenance to be deprived of flesh.
Every night I go to bed imagining…
Whether I’d wake up to meet the sun or open my eyes in a grave.
But I do pray “Lord if I don’t make it in the morning”
“Admit me into your beautiful garden”.
It’s a mystery that everyone will come to know, but wouldn’t be able to tell.
When the call comes, you can’t ignore, hold or press the end button.
It’s a harsh reality.
… Every soul shall taste death.