Take no anger to heart about my words
It is just me mirroring my society,
As muses are to poets so is muse a plot to the poem.
The fault in our stars are like the unknown that we seek in our dreams
Seasons will come, season will go
Leave my home is not leave the globe
Boys will become men, men will become older men
And life will still attain continuity
The man in liturgical robe and the man who saw the crescent all heard the call
And so is the man who sees the maker through cowries, stones and sand on a tray.
Perspective is a constant rhythm and superior arguments become superior when perspective changes
We pray and fast, to buy time over what will be the end of all,
while others care less about the unknown certitude.
For the closure of eyes to sleep is an end in disguise
A break from the world's beauty and world's uglyness
And only those who wake after the sleep will miss those who didn't
So fear not the absymal depth of death and live life when you can, for we will all be forgone someday.
Make men happy and practice less of denouncement
You will make more meaning if you understand the mind of your neighbours other than judging the merits and fault in their stars.
For no one as the manual of perfection.
However take no anger to heart about my words
It is just me mirroring my society,
For every poet as a muse and every muse is a plot for the poem.
Damilola Nelson ©
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem