As dusk comes, i meditate on truth and legacy.
Have i said any and what would be mine.
Before i go, would i leave a stamp in time?
I want to create something evergreen, roll it into a joint.
Light, puff and pass it from one generation to another.
Let the phrase on every lip be 'FIIDI the L-E-G-E-N-D.
And like my lord Jesus, my glory might have no E-N-D.
Hence the youth should feed off my drive... Let my words forever fuel their hunger.
For i shall be hailed as the seasoned veteran, of sorts i could be called Onga.
It's a dark world, i only see pitch black.
The people want to feed, seems like they are in permanent lack.
Their perceptions of the world are getting drowned, No one is safe... not even those who lock themselves in like they were Noah's ark.
At the end of the day, it seems to be a game.
The young are slain and ushered into early sainthood.
There's a call for justice with a pathetic response.
If they were hooked on a loop to 'dekunle's song, they still wouldn't pick up.
So i bump my fist in the air, and dedicate this to those who have lost someone to them in life's biased tussle.
A brother, a lover, a sister, a friend or parents.
I know they say life's accommodation is temporary and we're just here to pay rent.
To console, they would say whatever it is that makes sense.
We know it's all jeers, and behind their closed doors they laugh and cheer.
So i say a prayer for the weak and the helpless, for the hungry and the hopeless.
We hope what comes next is not a war on world scale.
While they tussle for nuclear power not caring if we are hearty or hale.
The light at the tunnels' end is dim and grim.
Several questions pop up at this moment....
Are we done for? Would things ever get better?
Would these dark clouds later result in a better weather?
To get answers, we would have to march together like the third month of the year.
We create an electrifying atmosphere for life as we seek to transit through phases.
Taking a cue from dettols' advert, "if we don't take care of ourselves... who damn will? "