Is It Not Late Poem by A A Umar Udubo

Is it not late
to inspire a dying man,
when he sees ethereal beings
the winged celestial lights? human beings
limit is their brains, vision and meanings
and realities they see as plan


Is this why
in darker shades their lives are spent
moving with light's speed to the ending stream
to the spiritual shore where their words can't but beam
that moment when the holy sleeping demon does scream
and the pure soul prays it be sent?


our days drag on the tummies
when we too heavy ride to meet mother
to unburden this hefty cargo neither
here nor beyond, a descend on the sunless mansion they smother
our bulky mummies


now the steps you heard no more, only an approaching might
the hidden realities take form in the down floor
and deep sleepers desert their dreams, the door
sprang wide and the curtains they saw,
with the newest of eyes, disappear in light