A Strange, Weird Line Between Love and Hatred
I have borne witness to mysteries untold,
A king’s cup-bearer, a silent soul.
I have seen great chiefs and men of might,
Drown in their sorrow, stripped of light.
Life, a stage where fate is spun,
Each act performed ‘til the tale is done.
Lessons woven in shadows cast,
Echoing wisdom from ages past.
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For peace is but a distant song,
Once birthed from war where blood ran strong.
As the sun ascends with gentle grace,
It carries both blessings and curses in place.
We dance to fables by the moon’s soft glow,
Forgetting the seasons has stories to show.
An Igbo saying lingers in air so thin:
A snake births none of a different skin.
Characters shift, yet the play’s the same,
We live past lives with a different name.
Through decades dense with heavy cost,
Men seek to rule, but nature is lost.
In royal halls where power sways,
Love and hatred weave their maze.
The palm wine sweet, now laced with doom,
Kola nuts meant to bless, now seal the tomb.
Burdened souls bear pain untold,
Passing wounds as heirlooms cold.
They claim the past holds no more sting,
Yet lift another’s sorrow as if nothing.
They say no art can read the mind,
But signs are clear to those inclined.
The lips do more than taste and speak,
Wisdom’s words, the strong must seek.
Obi-Diya, with wisdom rare,
Lifted curses whispered in the air.
She called us children of the divine,
And broke the chains of ancient time.
No longer witches or burdens cursed,
But seeds of hope that bloom and burst.
A past rewritten, a future bright,
As shadows flee before the light.
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Wealth is fleeting, remember well,
The path you tread, the tales you tell.
For wisdom passed from elders wise,
Guards the home Neath endless skies.
