The Passes Poem by *Tony Cemaluk Egbuonu

It passes.
Every iron.

Either passed,
Is passing,
Or definitely to pass,
Past the Smiths foundry.

The Egypts of life,
The missionary journeys,
Riddled with wildernesses.
Chained imprisonment,
Escape escapades,
Before the Schengen tours.

Whatever phase?
Any phase in.
Eschew phobia.
Abscond not, if you could.
Even if you could, don't.

Glory.
It is not defeatist.
Every phase:
Purposed,
Valuable experience.
Not seen now,
But soon to be seen.

In all:
Glory. Glory, give.