To The Gods In The Mist Poem by Adeosun Olamide

You can move on from yourself,
Tearing away, or becoming slack as you now are.
You now are, not as an angel, not in heaven,
But as a god, seeking heaven,
Lost gods, wounded gods that we are,
Forgetting heaven is within us and so is hell.
Hells, having the shape of heaven surrounds us.

We are guest of dusts and rust,
And sometimes when not, it visits and settles upon us.
Should we desiring no further, its company
Must bide the summering winters,
And make of the foe, the endure to our chastity,
A mask from the vultures that swims through storms
The storms with surfaces of peace

Though the rusts and dusts surely shall come to bite,
To bite or to rouse the hunger, the perished denied,
And the hunger pushing us to the roads,
To beg the vultures gaze or the warmth of its belly,
We should remember then the road to us,
Don't think the road to you is another, as most often do,
And don't bid for warmth or whispers…
And such confinements, as we should,
Giving your key to your hunger, to its entertainments

But on the roads to us, the other road,
Embrace the bearings, refinement you may suffer,
Embrace the bearings you forsake,
Embrace, the complexions you are, not painted,
Not the desire of those beggars, the vain
And remember that though jewel makes us weary,
They make us diamonds,
And diamonds often belongs to the deserving,
To heaven