The Dream -By Muhammad Ajah

Filed under: Global Issues |

Poem Title: Man in the Mirror

When the plaintive dream visited me again

In the half end of a dormant night

All the way across the Sahara Desert

To this Buuth near Duwai-a, Cairo

Between the afghan and pallet

I tossed, yawned and lo cried out

I had seen two men, one I knew

My dear dad who had been so dear

Dead five square of years ago

At five, I hardly could catch him well

 

 

But it was he. O, it was he!

Who could call my name so well?

My door was knocked and soon opened

He came smiling with a man behind

Sat by my bed, his tender eyes

Fixed on mine and then placing

His ever blessed palm on my chest

And as my fear was growing high

Soothed me like my loving mum

Dad you choose to forsake me?

When all I had was you and mum

Bursting into tears he held me tight

And cried the more, Oh my son!

My time was reached, the Divine Time

I had no choice but had to hear

The Caller who gently picked

My transformed soul away

To the home where I dwell alone

Why didn’t you take me there along?

Just a home built for one

And the Caller acts by High Command

And more, long journey, you can’t understand

Tell me what you know, stranger strand!

Fear and pain or blessing and joy

All kinds of reward beneath the land

Behold my sonny, behold the world!

It has betrayed to us who are gone

The lessons I do now lay you on

Lest my blood on earth be forlorn

And pas them to your yet unborn

Sing to them of the paradise gained

And of gardeners who will be chained

For I was a sheep lost and found

Grown so wild nearly to be bound

To hide their flesh of less pound

In the abyss of sterile ground

For I lost in Him that which is sound

How merciful the Incomprehensible He!

To call me when I was much free

And had indeed made my plea

That all my life would be

For Him just before the Caller appeared

My dear son, tell all you dearly love

Nay, tell all the living, near and far

The world of your age is mad

And we, the gone, are sad

Most of you to us are bad

Your world has ever lost peace

Ever till all of you return

Beware my dear, the world has betrayed

Great heroes of long gone days

Kings and queens of then and now

To gain the victory of the mean

Its false proem lures entrance

You must pack and hoard and hoard

And leave no man to get your way

With complex lust in you it weans

That Divine Gift and renders your urge

The oppressor sees his art of the Saint

The proud does sneer at the innocent mass

Love sycophants, whether lad or lass

To gain a world flimsy and crass

Do pangs on the true lovers pass

Justice as well as peace is lost

For might is now the right

For in that position, man feels mighty

He feels sweat of life is overcome

But when that dreadful course arrives

Pulls out their dirty thin souls

Then the world grins and laughs

And they grin but shout and weep

For late they have been to bewail

It welcomes newcomers with open palm

And parts its guests with solid push

But ere I part I have to impart

These seven orders simple and wise

Holy in them that you may live

The moderate – safe as savant

Who does turn to Who made him

Time like air you hold divine

For work, it’s the fruit of success

You must learn, then read to write

The source of wisdom lies behind

Man is the most blessed living

Blessed to diversify all things

The good, the best, the bad and worst

So make time to think for thinking

In you it inspires holier strength

Play with care to take fresh breath

In that dwells the will of youthful mirth

Laugh. Always loosen your fair cheek

For that is the music of the soul

Then most precious of these all

Your time for worship and call

To fetch peace and warmth for the mind

You are the seventh now doing

Rest your body, and always be kind

Beware my dear sonny, farewell

The man behind merely gave a nod

No father, don’t leave me here

Do not leave me here behind

Take me with you, my dear dad

I must go, now, I must go

You can a step make not with me

As your time is yet to come

Alone we come and alone we go

I woke. But O how fast he was gone!

Muhammad Ajah is a poet, an advocate of humanity, peace and good governance in Abuja. E-mail [email protected]

 

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