Raymond Anyanwu

There is a place; the haven
Where no words spoken
A shelter that strengthens
Neither shatters nor fragments
...

Look at the giant gaits of trees
Hardly ever do they walk
But eager to gulp the morning sun.
Swaying their long arms towards the light,
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Do all faded eons subsist again?
Do episodes past prior to seeing their radiance?
Has the star glistening on top of the pitch-black field
Hurried onto another nighttime?
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Lore are anticipations detoured through our hurt:
As the ray of justice bends over
Glittering, chaste, balanced and rational,
Tenacious to poise the globe we discern.
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If you ask me; I would like to be remembered
An individual who was fervent for life.
One who his days of undesirable bliss he summed
Though long we remain in the radiance
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Here they are; earth, water, wind and fire,
Which on all subsists,
But not as land that lies waste
nor water polluted from its source
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Religions are the habiliments of wisdom. And the Almighty; the metaphor for being.
All wisdom can be understood
With allusion to the material world.
This doesn’t refute the spirituality of wisdom,
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It’s night time; the centre of the dark,
The stillness of the skies
But the dazzling twinkling stars
The moon is fully risen from bed
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I don’t know if the rivers are endless,
Or if life-long love last perpetually,
Yet every moment
Clings to a bit of endless effort.
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Aren’t Clerics believed to be the shepherds
That marshals the ardent herd
In a bid to guide their souls?
Have they overlooked their hallowed role
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Why did you tell me
That the flames of old are simple to keep ablaze?
Yet connoisseurs could employ
A little celestial assistance every now and then.
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When people are definite
Like drapes they are
Adorned amid the entity and the expression.
One views recurring modus operandi assiduously,
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We shall not get enthused
Because another office bearer
Has made yet another promise
Another lip service
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I cannot conceal my whisper
In me it roams wildly
Keeping my equanimity distant.
My young whispers I cannot confine
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Have you tasted the dish of consciousness?
A produce of natural assortment it is
Like a doubled vision
Relishing is its outlook:
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As I gazed at the reflective elements
My conscious I called to the witness box
Darts of questions streamed in…
My pen I held, to release
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If you’re standing; stand tall
If you’re stooping, stoop low;

If you’re sitting, sit straight
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The songs of the sun
Answers it provides to the heart
The soul gives its listening ears.
The wind draws the melody
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The Magna Carta
A symbol of equity

The Magna Carta
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Is there anything more than sunshine
which sets out upon the patio of your heart?
The miracles that might have been at one time
Have long found a reason to depart.
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