Egwu Collins

A land of old.
Made out of gold.
Its sheer uniqueness unshared.
Inhabitants dwell in darkness.
...

A people are born.
Born to be vast.
It's sheer non-sense as I speak because it feels we should run.
Making us think we are the last.
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Love O Love
How rare at thee,
Even the kindest of men fail to inhold
They flee;
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The class is a Place to be.
When i Look Outside.
I See People drinking Hennessy.
Whats this, they supposed to learn.
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With Wit Will Water Walk.
Thou art more answerable.
Not even the gods can talk
Against him, nor manly efforts considerable.
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Is she a maid?
Who is she? Answer not, said
The other;
Please tell him she! Screamed the minder;
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Our leader nested in a cage.
Error evoked from their brain, thinking its time for a new page.
A new page of dominance, as to confiscate the minds of my peoples past.
Nevertheless, we will never be the last.
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It seems you can't understand what you see.
You think and think, you get tired of thinking, then you flee.
Everything around you is turning blur.
You ponder on the truth of life and you ask questions, you continue asking for more.
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'One day during the summer I saw a man'
Thus said me;
And he seems as cruel as he seems to be;
Folly encircled me as the man
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Can you get everything in this world?
The answer is a no, but your hard work has to be overboard.
Am glimpsing through the book of life, and I see 'Life is Short'.
What life are we meant to live? we have to utilise every time of our life since 'Life is Short'.
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The realm is still.
Not made of steel.
Nevertheless it shines at the struck of the sun.
Quiet and filled with none.
...