The First Fruits Poem by Edward Kofi Louis

Once upon the rivers of hope,
Once upon the fountains of waters,
Once upon the valleys of dreams,
Once upon the mountains of love,
Singing as it went through the gardens;
The first fruits of the muse matters a lot.
A message to the walled city,
To it's appointed owners;
No more pain,
No more sorrow,
No more tears,
No more death,
No more crying,
Of the former things gone too soon;
With all things mad anew on a high mountain.
Walk with me in white to know about this story,
Like the potter's vessels;
The first fruits of love is with us all.
In a deep valley,
You should keep the fire burning;
Like brides adorned to their husbands.
To the first fruits of hope,
Like a sickle on the earth;
To the first fruits of dreams,
Like the leaves for healing;
This land of rivers do ned rest.
Life is like the mystery of a woman;
It is noted,
It is written,
It is done!
Like the bride and the groom in the deep valley! !
So, let the first fruits be enjoyable,
And let the artist's pens do judge the mystery;
It's all like a walled city at peace.