AMEN

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
There’s a place where rare seasons of joy will become
Melodious ejaculations of the moment,
There’ll come a time
When love will be greater than words can exemplify,
A proclamation of pleasurable sacrifice,
A determinant of eternal prosperity;
I know there are souls who journey beyond the cosmos
On behalf of those too burdened to fly,
Too limited to even try,
I know there are corners of this planet still of pristine character
Undefiled by marauders subliminally searching for the apocalyptic number.

read on...........

Submitted: July 11, 2008

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Submitted: July 11, 2008

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AMEN

 

There’s a place where rare seasons of joy will become

Melodious ejaculations of the moment,

There’ll come a time

When love will be greater than words can exemplify,

A proclamation of pleasurable sacrifice,

A determinant of eternal prosperity;

I know there are souls who journey beyond the cosmos

On behalf of those too burdened to fly,

Too limited to even try,

I know there are corners of this planet still of pristine character

Undefiled by marauders subliminally searching for the apocalyptic number.

 

I know there are children

Destined to capture this world with such innocence

As the descent of dew on a serene morn,

I know floods will blow past

Revealing a vicious demand for purpose.

I know we will explore, discovering that which yields

The acceptance or denial of truth;

I know that we are in part sublunary creatures

Machinated by celestial fires for the purpose of good,

Yet our sins, seemingly murky waters

Extinguish those heavenly chandeliers

Each time we pray and curse with one tongue.

 

I know death lurks nearby,

I feel it whenever my gates are open

And sleep succeeds in whisking me away

Without a whisper of gratitude in God’s name

I know we are very uncertain of the end,

We are petrified preachers perpetually immersed in conflict,

We are an undulating generation of contradictions,

Muffled choristers of indiscriminate desires.

Yet I know we will be pardoned for being ourselves,

We, predatory shadows, victims of circumstance,

Demoralising the already demoralised without trepidation of the descent of a higher hand.

 

I know we will vocalise our confessions as one or individual people,

We will writhe and pant after redemption and righteousness,

Hearken unto the sound of vesper-bells

Like true men of the cloth,

Hold hands with serfs; all acts of segregation dispelled,

Celebrate our negritude and fortitude,

Paint with the palates that nature spews

And steady the existing ethos by leadership of a prescient race,

A rainbow of diverse cultures

Chosen to silence the cataclysmic epoch

Of individual and global avarice


© Copyright 2017 EZEH CHIBUOKE. All rights reserved.

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