THE CIMMERIAN PROMISED LAND
It was the journey of hopeless
Serendipity dwelt in living hearts
The altar of trivial and egoisms
Was standing before blind ones.
The smiles of the hero was fate
Disintegrating faith of essence
Like the harmattan wind sings
To praise the morning sunrise.
Cries were obliged, mourns fare
Mouths would hear but not air
Crews equalized the sinking ship
Sinking with all cargo like needles.
No one appeared to hoist rescue
Unless the gangs stood alongside
Like statues waiting to greet airs
And launched hypocritic steps.
Many kissed the underneath sand
Fewest unconsciously emerged
Through the hands of enemies
Laid with swollen stomachs
To let out faithless waters
For them to see the lights
Through their fair enemies.
Hakuna maoni:
Chapisha Maoni