The Sensational Eras Of Yadth yadth Poem by ibiba tamunominji

The Sensational Eras of YADTH
YADTH stands where ancestors breathe,
A yard of earth no crown could seize.
Before the throne, before the law,
It held the land, the root, the core.
Here, dust remembers every reign,
Yet bows to none that came and waned.
Kings rose tall and empires fell,
YADTH endured, its stories dwell.
It is the compound where time convenes,
Where old drums speak in present scenes.
Children run through ancient lines,
Their laughter heirs to ageless signs.
Rulers pass with written decree,
But YADTH rules in memory.
No border breaks its silent might,
No flag outlives its native right.
Each era leaves a different mark:
The age of fire, the age of bark,
The age of ink, the age of steel,
Yet YADTH remains what roots can feel.
It is not land alone, but claim—
A living soil beyond a name.
A throne may shift, a crown may fade,
But YADTH stands, unbought, unmade.
O sacred yard of timeless breath,
You outlive power, war, and death.
Through ruling reigns that rise and part,
YADTH survives—the land's true heart.