The Journey of Man by Ola W Halim

 

in the morning, man is a cocoyam shoot,

life is served in dews and golden horizons;

mists would wear hues which would get

darker, drier, as midday draws in, suckles

sunflowers to wilt, renders the field rust,

a tawny tabletop rattling under soles

 

several bouts of reality sprout at midday,

when harmattan winds wind nature into a

hovering ball of dust; scorched efforts, the heat

stings armpits, the throat burns for a drop,

and all the rivers of the world become mirages—

but man journeys still…

 

in the evening, the rains man envisages come–

a deluge, the clouds burst into rafters, and

thunders rip man’s home into uneven halves;

in a dark corner, he leans, shivering, and his

nudity and vanity are enclosed in his palms,

outside, the flood meets the sky

 

night sneaks on man a vain being,

to jeer at every effort coiled into

stringballs of barrenness and failures;

and it comes with man’s death who

pads straight to man’s hiding corner

and wills him to keep eyelids

forever shut!

 

Ola W Halim writes fiction and reflections somewhere in Edo State, where he lives. His themes are mostly psychological and philosophical. He lives mostly in his head. 

 

2 Comments

  • Victor Somtochukwu Nwankwo July 2, 2018 at 8:31 pm

    Mind blowing! Keep it up Ola. 👍

    Reply
    • Ola W. Halim July 3, 2018 at 8:28 pm

      Thanks a bunch, Victor.

      Reply

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