AEON OF DEW
Crept in mourning morning
Crying away thy sorrow.
Skies’ spittle woke sobbing,
Burying the last morrow.
Whispers roam on a wind
Saying words all heard,
Soothe the first twilight’s mind
As early snakes grow a beard.
Tender heavenly rays announce
Judge’s back from a night abroad.
This first creation another ounce
In a repertoire of realms so broad.
“In days old and long gone by
A young Goat still with speech
Asked humans as he went by
Their old time wasting pitch.
“‘Have you seen my wives go by?’
‘Wives?’ They jeer and returned.
Enquiries to, the grown kid comply.
‘Wives,’ he so proudly confirmed.
“‘No laddie,’ their answer did fly.
‘We only saw your full mothers
And so many sisters walk by.’
‘But they’re all my wives, my brothers.’”
Singing whispers talk to the Angels,
The embers of dieing souls yet float.
Smell and eat the matrimony of singles,
The adulterous flesh of the human Goat.
Beautiful, sweet, soft words speak to the good,
Firing up the hapless situation with much wood.
Enjoying fully ungodly coupling of unwedded hope,
Grown up, unethical nature of the animalistic dope.
Baba, mutuwa na da wuya?
Mun amince duniyar ka da wuya.
Father, is it hard to die?
We acknowledge the hassles of your world.
With life’s wards always roams a lie;
We all are reproductions of its mould.
Choking in the presence of its grip,
The inscrutable crux not familiarized.
Do we sit out the stages of its trip,
Like your peaceful love that wasn’t recognized?
From the weep the baby wails
To the whip’s lashes life hails,
These tastes we own and inherit.
Say oh father, is there better to merit?