Of the countless nobles I’ve been acquainted with,
None has lighten the grey cloud aura around me as this god
Seconds spent on his table is compared to eon
In tandem with the previous dawn
This morning, I sent you three pearls
From the healing hearth of Obanta
The progenitor of the buoyant tribe at the gateway
The nodal towns bathing the atlantic
To buy three gourds of palm wine in ritual libation
One to the territories you have conquered
One to your incoming silver hirsute roof
The last one to the custodian; the undying embers
The fanning light, all this while that has been with you
This morning I break kola into three
Continue reading THE LEGEND OF EL-NUKAL (The 3rd series) written by Adeojo Kolawole Adeyemi Hannibal
The dying man doesn’t have to worry about anything.
Not even the fears that crumble others and prevent them from stepping out onto those terrains that they love to tread on but who’s fears serve to prevent such a venture.
The worst frame of death to the dying man must (since I’m afraid I’ve never been in that kinda situation before) be child’s play.
His own death he must fear the most because still filled with dreams and hopes (not dying empty but full) is enough to make the ghost of the dead man hunt himself till he probably dies the second time (death in death). Continue reading “Live your everyday as if it was the last” “Die empty”.
In the year 2013, I stood at the top, the tipping point of a precipice located somewhere remote, almost from world contact but for the cyberspace that connects.
Almost sloughing off self, almost falling off, I stood giddy from stress and lack of sleep and weak from hunger, protracted. Below is a dagger eagerly waiting for the jugular and behind is a team of aggressors, ready to reach out and push, slowly approaching.
Where did I come from; how did I get here in the first place? Had I dropped off the back of a flying (and dying) bird? Maybe it was that I escaped the crash of an aircraft. Or could it be that I was born here…right here on this precipice, never been anywhere else and without a plan to be anywhere else? Something tells me it was my mother, (aside) the best in the world, who blew me here to safety, with the wind, from the reckless claws of those zombies, who killed baby boys in our ancestors’ time.
Continue reading MY QUEST@ The Tipping Point