The Guru Poem by Olabode Joseph Oluwatayo

They are all; we are not,
A birthmark, we price not,
Always not; but lies on delivery beds,
Meteors of bright skies thier heads,
Nature in its rarest form,
Insanity of the weirdest sort,
Eeriest as speaking shadows,
Flickering unusual colors of the rainbow,
With depthless insight of the song sparrow,
and dextrous grace of an alighting bird,
Knowlegde the passion, Privilege no more!
Even generations could hold no more.
Inventions are remainders of these heroes.
Even the earth dances over the luxuries of these geniuses!