The Right Time

                                                                           

More than a moment lost

More than a memory to be forever remembered

More than the heartache of a jilt

More than the beauty of a rising sun

More than the betrayal of a trusted ally

More than the calm of a glowing moon

More than the bile of a fruitless enterprise

More than the rhythm of a morning sparrow

More than the crave of a lonely lover

More than the comfort of a warm hug

More than the desire of a travelers taste

More than the serenity of a spring garden

More than the salty tear of a mother’s loss

More than the fecundity of a farmer’s field

More than the reality that life is finite

More than the pain of a friend’s anguish

...is the possibility of a new beginning

The ability to start all over

…is the sweetness of the nectar

The danger of going further

…is the clutch of a loving embrace

The strength in holding on

…is the deceit of a second chance

The bravery in letting go

…and above all is;

knowing when to start all over and when to go further

knowing when to hold on and when to let go.

Salient Thoughts Of An IDP Child

The tragedy of an unlived life

The anguish of a fruitless thrive

Who knows the pain I feel

When life presents a scar time can't heal

I just put on my mask of smiles

Hoping to find solace down the isle

We had a life, not one you would wish for

But it was all we had and it was all we loved

It was devoid of three square meals and a teddy to love

But the happiness and honesty we shared was just enough

We woke up every morning to the shy sun, popping out from behind the mountains

We never had a TV set and we never knew the dilemma of choosing between margarine and mayonnaise

But every evening when we sit round the burning fire under the glowing moon, we shared smiles that radiated contentment in different ways

Until the night when we saw the last moon

we had hurt no man and had wished no woman misfortune

but still they came for us in the darkness of the night, the raped the innocence of our virgins and killed the courage of our men.

our lifes where at the mercy of the swiftness of our feets

The killed our dreams and took away our future, not in retaliation for any wrong done, but for pleasure and fun.

Our clans and lineage was reduced to another number in the statistic of the trials of our nation

Our nameless fathers and selfless mothers where all laid into the earth without dignity or tradition

We might have seen worst days but our burning hope will never be extinguished because we believe in new beginnings and happy endings!

We Are Our Memories.

We are our memories

Our memories are all that we are

We are not the moments that make up the memories

But we are the memories that the moment makes

We rely on our memories to act in the moment

Strip one of his memories and you have made a new person who will depend on other people's memories for self-definition

Biology says we are made up of blood, bone and flesh

But from where I am standing, we are made of up of memories, memories and memories.

A happy memory invariably makes a happy being...happy memories come from happy moments

Stay in the moment if it is happy...keep the moment for the memory and don't dilute it with selfies and flashlights, instead consolidate it with selflessness and glad hearts

Moments and memories; individually unique, together complete...keep the moment pristine and the memory will be crystal...stay in the moment.

I Want To Write

                                             

                                                                             

I want to write...

I want to write, but I am uncertain about the subject;

Should I write about the faceless enemies of my country’s progress?

Or our victory against life's numerous battles?

But the enemies are faceless

And the victory countless, only to be numbered by the enemies triumph.

Should I write about the obscurity of the various enterprises that made our days tedious and at night kept sleep away from our eyes?

Or about the passion with which we surmounted the surge of the obstinate tides?

But our days became happy

Our nights tranquil

And the tide made fine sailors of the uncalm sea.

Should I write about our double standard society that criticize abortion and snide pregnant teenagers, oblivious of the fact that the two phenomenon are mutually exclusive,

But the mentored and wise unlike the callow and naive have always avoided the dilemma.

Same society that sneers at public office holders that are not luxurious and complain about politicians that are notorious,

But in time nature will find a balance as it always does.

Should I write about the divide and conquer mind control mechanism that has left many bereaved and boundaries of differences a killing field?

But only in utopia exists a community without dispute.

Should I write about Religion, the opium of the masses, business of the pastors and enterprise of the priests?

But good cannot be defined without bad; in order to exist real there must be fake.

I still want to write...

Heart Of A True Nigerian

All my life living as a true Nigerian with the green-white-green blood flowing through my thick veins, arteries and heart,

like river Niger and Benue flowing with shimmering waves during the rain-less seasons and in March.

It flowed with the strength of a million charioteers even when there were no chariots,

it flowed with the strength of the eagle and the dignity of a horse.

It flowed up rocky hills and through fertile valleys giving rise to the ever beautiful Coctus spectabilis.

A true Nigerian I am and my heart is the coat of arm.