Spoken of in tales ancient,
and conveyed in certainties.
Roaring! Like a lion
yet caged in structures
Unnatural; a prison of intellect
Destitute of realities
Telling with rises and sets
The fearful shakes off her head
with scornful look
It’s a frog’s stare at a thirsty deer
a fish in a net cannot swim
Yeah, a toothless dog won’t bite
A ground trodden by many feet
Seeds do die there in
Ascended in altitudes, and crossed latitudes
A measure of valor written in mind;
Of a bearer of fame untold
A dead brigade,
Conquering only in chronicles
Buried, would have been a better justice
But now an itch in our foreheads
As we seek to make right what went wrong
Un-breaking chains of letters
That stole our authority
When we sold our innocence
To the alphabets of doom

Charles Kanyuga

Copyright © Charles Kanyuga

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