Poets Are Mirrors. Poem by John Chizoba Vincent

We leave all we are in the hand of history,
future of our past, past of our future...
when the sun light shines upon the commoners,
let the Izaga masquerade stand tall above them
to prevent the fury of it terrible burns.
Life is a mess worthless to fight for.
The fountain of all beings rest in greed,
Let the children be told of their past,
let the children be told of history of their land.
We can only explain who we are to ourselves,
we try not to be sad like the lonely cloud
But as happy as the tree leaves with the breeze.
We are the change, we really the hope, we are the miracle,
we are the change you are going through.
We see the pains hidden in your pride,
the war against societal change in an umbrellamic foist.
W gather together to make history in victory,
as long as you live, we live not for the fame,
We live not for the moment at hand...
This is the part that summond the bloodshot,
the veil that cause the orbiting of the earth,
the birds that parrot the colours of the sky;
we are the society, the society is us.
You see through our eyes what the community is,
We are the sun, the reflection of the green grasses.
Nature is in the capitalist frame of a federalism,
none stand in the vocal pitch of our voices.
We are the mirrors that reflect men and society,
Poets are mirrors, reflection of the society.

©John Chizoba Vincent.