A tribute to my neighbor,
What gain was his labor?
Playing a game that was never won,
In a twinkle his time was gone.
He moved like a flood,
Like a dream in the morning,
He grew and burst into bloom,
At evening he dried like weed.
What a terrifying game!
Manís conscience subdued by fame,
Is life wrapped to a piece of wool?
What happens when it slips into a pool?
The journey of a lone foreigner,
A being treated like a prisoner,
When we pay homage to mother earth,
Itís too late to address our faith.
Many people, their sons and daughters,
Sudden sorrow replaced their laughter,
What a gift nature has to offer,
At the tail end, we always suffer.
© All right reserved. Johnson O.J. Arumona. 2006
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