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Frail Existence
by Mobayode Akinsolu 
05/12/12
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Frail Existence

Weary, I never heard or understood this word until that definite moment when as a little boy, I had to cram every stanza of an old-time hymn; ‘I heard the voice of Jesus say’. As I recall on that very good day, I was lost in the middle of too many indescribable words and even now, the word ‘weary’ still startles me like a prickly sheet in the middle of a deep sleep.

The eaglet learns to take to flight after several falls and the fiercest lioness returns to chase again and again until a prey is caught. The ways of men are quite known and the machinations of the human heart are as pronounced as the full moon in the skies of a quiet night. A walk too long may weaken the heart and a journey too far may fill the mind with anxiety. However, a dream fulfilled and a goal actualized is like the fire in the chimney of an extremely cold room that gives warmth to the frigid soul.

I watched from afar and I observed from a distance that the true and very essence of existence has been uncovered by only a select few. Those who through use and practice have learned to constantly distinguish betwixt that which is good and the unwholesome appearances of evil. One man embraces humility and he walks the dusty roads of earth in humiliation, another embraces pride and he had a terrible fall from the plinth of fame and glamor to a new height of exaltation. However, one thing remains true and two are not going to change; man is man and man can only be man.

The frailty of humanity cannot be quantified and the worries of life cannot be characterized. No one knows precisely what awaits us at the end of the road and no clairvoyant can accurately tell that which is written on the walls of tomorrow. The tides keep to rise and fall and the fortunes and misfortunes of man constantly accumulates. No doubt, there is a strong will that rules in the affairs of men and there is a small still voice that leads every listening soul.

Man is as helpless as the dry leaves that eventually falloff the trees when the wind blows and the weather rolls. Humanity will always be as needy as the cubs of a beastly cat. Nothing is ever going to change and if at all they do, they all get back the same. But there is a fountain; an ever flowing river; a place where all anchors hold in the fiery storms of life; the Master’s bosom.


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