It all started on a wintry day,
With cold skin and dull eyes.
The sun rose in the west like a god
Riding the tide of nature.
The spirit was dull and weary,
And temper hot with sleepy eyes,
Aye! The young man was weary of life's hope
As he wallow in heap of failures.
In his cottage the size of a hut,
He dreamed of cities full of wonders.
With him at the peak of excellence,
Bathing in the adulation of men.
He started the day with hopes high,
Pasting a false smile on his face
That has shed the softness of a child,
And the fatness of a lazy man.
He was wrong and he paid in blood,
In time spent on hopeless fantasies,
For the world has become a battlefield,
Soaked in the injustice of the rich.
The night sleeps and the day rise again in glory,
And Like a Phoenix reborn from the ashes of his mistakes;
The man grabbed his things not more than a bag,
And started the journey of no end.
The day unveils all her grandeur,
As the man walks the path of redemption,
For the chains of yesterday has been broken,
And a new day has unfurl its wings.
The young man sing: o! Land of mystery,
Hear my voice that shall be louder still
As I make my way towards your land of beauty.
Do not turn your back to me,
For what I say is true.
©Okunola Peace.
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