Submitted By: Lola Oyebola

Like a farmer sloshing through his mud paddies,
On the morn of a big harvest,
To him, a bluer sky than this,
Or greener grass,
His eyes had never seen.
Feelings stirring and welling,
Manifesting with vigor,
With the rising of the sun,
Comes the heralding of a new day,
Bringing with it,
Beginnings for some,
Endings for others.
For each new morn bursts forth memories,
Some good, some bad,
None is ever constant,
For the only constant thing is the unknown.

We never know what awaits us,
A different pattern…
A different day,
We only see as the events unfold.
More often than not,
We never get what we expect,
Sometimes life throws us nasty curves.
But hope never ceases,
The legends of old toiled and persevered,
Eating by the sweat of their brow,
Nothing worthwhile comes easy,
Only then does it hold meaning,
For that which comes easily and freely,
Is not completely conveyed,
Never wholly accounting for that which it bears.

Peculiarity……
For vast as the human race is,
We are all unique,
Varying talents inherent in every soul,
In every mind….
Every thing that draws breath.
A time comes in man’s life,
When he must embark,
On that journey of self-discovery,
Circling the abysmal depths of soul-searching,
Defining the “I in you”,
That which must be done alone,
For indeed this much we owe,
the one who formed us.
Without this, we cannot truly live,
‘Tis better said that we tried and failed,
Than that we failed to try.

Soaring like free spirits,
Up and beyond,
Far and away,
Unfettered ….
Over the skies
Pondering the complexity that makes us,
Exploring our intricate design,
By being….

Ironic indeed it is....
Left to us,
We will aim high,
Carving our niche,
Rising to the heights
Setting standards…
Blazing the trail.
For what is the essence of life?
It is just that…
Being….

© Lola Oyebola, 2002