Colorless, multiple, miracle pieces of thread,
dropping down from a dark black cloud;
with a melodious touch on the roofs of men's dwelling.

Who am I?
When the future matters but a little
And willingly, it is sacrificed now
To meet, the pressing demand of today
when destiny carries no value
And appetite, I highly esteemed...

Life and time
Friends in a race
Running together...
At different pace
Boundary of eternity
There, they face
Time awaits the birth of life…
Pushed out with the very last of strength

To the first child belongs the double portion
An inheritance bequeathed by the father
And the rest for others
Days preceding his father’s departure
He comes home hungry and weary

We live in a nation characterized with insecurity
Where peace is a scarce commodity
We leave every day in uncertainty
We know not whether it will last for eternity

When it comes to writing, I am so slow
That a snail is better in speed than I am
I spend all the day struggling.
Rolling and strolling over the first line

I know what to write but how to start

Africa
The continent with shape as a handgun
Facing down the sea
As if her problem is with the sea

Africa
The continent with shape as a handgun
The fields of oil-

Womb
Wall of fortification
Origin in time, of a new life as opposed to origin in eternity
Masterfully crafted to accommodate the seed of life to be....
Brought forth for the joy of a generation

One big blanket that covers the universe
Adorned with a round big white flower
Studded with multitude of tiny shining stones