At The King's Gate Poem by Edward Kofi Louis

Heritage!
To pay homage;
With royal garments of blue and white,
but, i am clothed in sackcloth at the king's gate.

Who can bring the clean from the unclean? !
And, does not the ear test words and the mouth taste food?
With a mere laughingstock to those whose feet have slipped;
In the garden of sin.

The muse of lust,
Like the muse of a drunkard!
Who needs help to find his or her way home.

The muse of life,
Let your ears discern what is right and, what i am saying;
With the muse of humility,
By listening carefully to my speech.

The muse of life,
A wild donkey's colt is born tame!
From the womb of the grave,
Hoever, don't pour me out like water when, the truth hits your heart.

At the king's gate,
A man born of a woman is full of trouble!
As seen with the troubles of this world;
And mankind aims at each other in the name of war.

The thirteenth day of your lovely muse,
With royal garments on;
But, this poem knows no one!
Because, i am standing at the king's gate in sackcloth.