In Here Poem by ENOCH JOHN

in here,
no sudden promise fleeting time holds,
only its passing, clothed in certainty and imminence,
and the future its own uncertainty it voices,
as silently, a thousand hidden fears arise,
like the slender grass springing up with the rains,
so from their slumber, real and unreal,
like viewing a roaring lion painted on a mural,
these fears, so much like crossing imaginary rivers,
or facing a band of Cyclops, gathered for war.

in here,
a solid citadel we gladly seek,
within whose hallowed halls will tread,
neither malice nor blackened hate.
which like perfidious bats,
fly in the face of the innocent,
for only a fledgeling substance we possess,
which, as our thoughts, easily dissipates
but we,
brandishing our banners and our local flags,
seek earnestly our own utopian sphere of splendour.