It's Been a While

Fiction
Hey.

It's been a while.

I'm writing this today to let you know I miss you, from the bottom of my heart. When I think of what we were, my tongue dries up and I swallow what's left of the saliva. I'm numb, my feelings are deadened and sometimes I wonder if letting you go was worth it.

Maybe I should have fought harder.

I remember when we said our goodbyes, I painfully remember. How you stared at me, shaking your head slowly from side to side, disillusioned at my decision to split up. Faded pink shirt, compact shorts and laced boots, your strap bag slung across your shoulder. Tuxedo, knotted tie, I was getting comfortable; in my prison.

You wanted freedom.


I sit and think of you when I'm with people. I talk less now, because you are not there to spur me on. I loved how you could walk up to any stranger, beam a smile, get them comfortable. Now, I mutter a greeting and contemplate whether to follow up, while walking fast away from them. I've become a shadow of myself, the shadow of myself, the darkness has become the norm.

You are still my sunshine, my schedules are the blinds.

So, I pen this letter to remind myself of you. I will never forget you my love, the moment that happens is the moment I become undead. Your memory fade away in the sunset and I wonder what you've become now. Either way, I know you're tasting life to the fullest. Living it.

I love you and I miss you.

Please reply this letter.

I do hope we meet again. Soon.

Yours sullenly,


The Grown Up Version of You.

Tears

Poetry
Behind the curtains stands a man
Waiting to mount the podium
To receive accolades and commendation
For his glamorous folklore achievements 
He shed a tear just before

Behind the curtain stands a man
With a stressful life he had to face
Locking the door and facing the road
As family made office more alluring
He shed a tear just before

Behind the curtain stands a man
With a lousy boss and the strain of work
With the retrenchment hook around his neck
and the uncertainties of a daily bread
He shed a tear just before

Behind the curtain stands a man
With scars beneath his blazer
Wounds covered up that you may never see
He emerges with a dashing smile 
He shed a tear just before

In the midst of the struggles he faced,
He reached the target he craved,
and today he remembers it all
and on the podium, for relief and joy
He shed a tear just before

Dusty Plains

Poetry

We see the sun and it is beautiful
The glow of it brings a desire to rise
Above the weaknesses we give power to
Step by step we proceed, closer today we are

Its call is fantasy twirled in reality
Our dare insanity weighed with belief
That somehow our wildest dreams could really be true
Step by step, we proceed, closer today we are

Our roadmap is the vision we think we saw
The pleasures of today become as shackles that bore
We stare at the rest, resting under the light
Step by step, we proceed, closer today we are

For we have seen something inexplicable
The joy it brings, undoubtedly immeasurable
We do not understand why, but it's too late to stop
Step by step, we proceed, closer today we are

Or are we?

Though we believe that one day, we'd stare at the sun
Gasping at our mind's grasping of its beauty
That we would announce with the cliché pomp we planned
"Started from the bottom, now we are grand "

 Pity we don't realise, the sun cannot be met
That after the morning sun comes an evening moon and a new dream
That we pursue the air, and like butterflies evasive, 
Step by step, we proceed, motivated by day dreams

So pursue with zeal, your deepest desires
But remind yourself they are passing soothers
Vanity upon vanity, riches and beauty still remain
Swept away with time, the fines of dusty plains

Because fulfillment in "things" does not really exist
Until we reach eternity and finally rest in bliss
The morning sun we see would rise and shift
and we would be occupied, with the chasing of it.

#PoetryWeek

Random Photos. Random poetry.

Global Warming

Poetry
In the heat of the day
With the sun up and scorching
Reminding us of global warming
As I toil under the noon day sun
Life has never felt this cold

In the heat of the day
With men up and running
Caught up with deadlines and schedules
To meet targets and meet ends
Life has never felt this cold

In the heat of the day
With the urge to be up and doing
At the peak of youthful prime
As we pursue careers and Forbes' attention
Life has never felt this cold

In the heat of the day
I pray we don't give our humanity away
May the risen temperature freeze pains
As our love warms the bitter hearts that cry
Life has never felt this cold

"The Road Called..." by Olive Samuels

Poetry
Like awakening from a dream
With this reality comes a scream
From the comfort of darkness
The strength I found in weakness
I burst forth into newness

I'm suddenly on a road
Scared but trying to act bold
As I stare down the path
Make an effort to do the math
The only result is a fainting heart


Nevertheless, I embark on this journey
Knowing it's not gonna be funny
Thinking and analysing I stop to weigh
How much more to go before I sway
With a thousand miles ahead, I get on my way.


Soon, I discover sinking sand and potholes
Dug up by false friends, gutters made by foes
I try my best to avoid the traps
Take off my hood, allow my wings flap
Hoping that the autumn breeze, lifts me with a grasp


Like an immature diver
Struggling with the reins I waver
Finally I fall deep into the river
Struggling on my feet again, I stand
Trusting I would be able to withstand 


Once more to the ground I fall
I'm sure I heard the squirrels lol
So I sat calmly, thinking of my drop
Without the heart to stomach another major flop
Searching for a way to make the pain stop 

As I walked on, I found a friend who relates
Found the right path when I knocked on his gate
Provides direction even when I derail
Now I know clearly, the destination
Found new drive, fresh motivation

So I stop occasionally as the cars zoom by
Shout out to the bikers and to the passers by
"There is a guider to get you by"
"His name is *Jesus*"
"And yes! He's come to save us"
and make the journey easier
on the road called life.

Blind Date

Poetry
A table a chair, no food, no candles
All I could catch was a scent supreme
Filled the air like the dust before rain
I sat still, in the darkness, adjusting my tie.

Next was her voice, gentle and sweet
She spoke slowly yet with perfect precision
Alluringly she drew my ears itching closer
I sat still, in the darkness, adjusting my tie.

Then she broke into soliloquy
Dispensing the predilections of her soul
Masterpiece templates of her dreams, I quivered
I sat still, in the darkness, adjusting my tie.

She sang, her voice sonorous and echoing
I shivered as she ripped the parts apart
As the pimples spread underneath my sleeve
I sat still, in the darkness, adjusting my tie.

And then she stopped,
My heart followed,
The silence loud,
My heart pounding,
I waited, listened,
My watch ticking,
My tongue twisted,
Her feet moved,
I heard a sigh,
It grew intense,
The buzzer shrieked...


The date was over, before I had a chance to speak.


As they drew me out of my chair,
The guards berating my reckless decision
I let them take me without protest,
I had broken the only rule there was

No lights! But alas, I had to see for myself
 That her face was as beautiful as her mind was
For she had already won my heart
My speech would only be a pointless prolong
And so it was that on the perfect blind date
I sat still, in the darkness adjusting my tie.

Second Thoughts

Poetry
The piano rang loud as I searched the room
I saw the parents of the bride and I the groom
Realised something was wrong, something was amiss
It was time for my wedding, without a bride to kiss

I stared at the best man, playing with the ring
I glanced at the rented choir, their voices trained to sing
I looked at the guests, with all the pageantry they brought
They all looked worried, like they could read my thoughts

I snuck out the back, with no time to spare,
A tear in my black jacket, but I didn't really care,
The girl of my dreams was missing her big day
She held the keys to my happiness, the sun in my day

I found her seated, all dressed up by the lake
"Babe, it's your big day. Let's go for heaven's sake"
Somehow those words felt dry out of my mouth
For I knew deep down, the wedding had gone south

And so I sat calmly, beside her and waited
Dropped the temper, fear and all the emotions that debated
Listened to her speak from the depth of her heart
In that one moment did the confusion depart

She took my memory to the first time we met
I, in the blue Tee, she wore a red skirt
How I teased and begged, showered her with gifts
And slowly but surely her stance did shift


My heart bled as she spoke of the proposal
How I went down, on one knee, before her mother
Family and friends knew and stood outside waiting
I planned the party and a ring she must emerge flaunting

I called it love, but she said she was pressured
We went on dates, but we clearly had no future
She liked my company but only for a while
No bridal dresses, bachelor parties or vows that tie

I sat there heartbroken staring at my reflection
The lake water still, peace in the midst of commotion
We sat there together, silent as the midnight chill
I thought about my life, love and the caterer's bill

And I awoke to the morning of my wedding
Bachelor's Party over, my singleness I was shedding
The nightmare the night before still plaguing me with questions
Did she really love me, were our moments real, with true emotions?

The piano rings loud as I search the room
I see the parents of the bride and I the groom
Stare at my wife-to-be smiling straight at me,
It's too late for second thoughts, our wedding begins.

Hannah: The Story

Poetry


Smile, shake hands, greet the people with gait
One more day in the movie for which they wait
Say a prayer of faith  for a mother of twins
You count covetousness amongst your sins

Stay perfect, the act keeps the congregation calm
If church is Gilead, you may well be the anointed balm
The children rush to you for hugs after mass
Their laughs stab at your heart like broken glass

One more day, alone and broken you stay,
One more morning, mourning, with tears you pray,
For God to fulfill promises he made,
To grant you this one thing and take away shame

With deadened eyes, teary, you stare at your reflection,
Repeat the verses that keep you in motion,
Hoping that God answers a broken mind,
and grants His faithful servant a miracle child

Noisy-Love

Poetry

I'm mostly quiet on those days
When you're not around
When you're far away and I can't call
I lay myself on my bed, circled
Lost in thoughts of you.

I'm mostly quiet on those days
When you're super busy
When you're caught up with you
I say a prayer that you excel
And mope at my loneliness

I'm mostly quiet on those days
When you piss me off
When you do that one thing I can't stand
I stay away but slowly remind myself
 Of the million things I love about you

I'm mostly quiet on those days
But when you show up I unwind, pause my prayers, make memories
I speak the sweetened emotions endlessly
You, my dear. You are the trigger to my noisy love

I Plead Insanity

Word!!!!

]I plead insanity.

Why won't I? When all that fills my mind is the desire to run to the next random stranger and tell him about a man who died and resurrected? Even if he did, how does that change the price of garri in the market? But that's the thing. I plead insanity because I believe it does. Against all studies of economics and the laws of demand and supply, I am convinced that believing in this once dead man would lead to a growth in purchasing power. Somehow (don't ask me how, I'm the crazy one here) faith in Him would get us out of recession. Madness right? I plead insanity.

I plead insanity because, one day I met him. I met him up close and personal, a meeting without physicality or form; a meeting I claimed made me reborn and now, I find myself seeing the colors of life. I mean, how insane can you get? When did life start having colors? But yes I see them. The smell of roasted corn draws a song out of me. The little child that grabs my hand unwittingly drives a chill through my nerve that makes me want to ask his mother for ten seconds to whirl him up in the air. Who does that? She'd probably get me arrested and locked in a house for crazies where I belong.

I plead insanity because one day, the rest of the world turned black and white. The desires of the sane ones became boring to me. My senses became enlivened, my drive became fueled, my confidence boosted and my intellect...oh...I really don't know if this is soundness of mind or insanity. I pick the latter. It's easier to explain if I say I am insane.

I plead insanity, because I was told that one day, we crazy people would be locked up and shipped away to a place far far away where we would be together. We must be insane, because we have been told that we would be there forever. And oh, we'd ascend there. Against gravity. And oh, that guy that I said died and resurrected, is the one coming back to take us to the forever nuthouse. Go figure.🤔😕

 So I plead insanity. But fear not. Our master is coming to take us to the nuthouse soon and we'd leave you sane folks here. That way sanity would be restored to your lives and you'd live happily ever after. Or...wait a second.

 You could join us crazy folks. Plead insanity too. It just might be what you need.

What I Want

Poetry


This is all I want
Lonely walks on cold nights
Quiet chats on damp grasslands
Calm sharing of scripture nuggets
To stare at the stars in your eyes

That the shovel of your heart
Digs through the debris in my head
Seeks out the point in my jibberish
Looks for the peace in my clattering

For you to care involuntarily
That you let me care irrevocably
That our problems solve one another
Our burdens melting under the heat of love

A love that would never die
A future that has only you and I
As I await the day you step into this mess
I will scribble, I will speak and I will wait till I find
What I want: a life with you.

Little Girl

Fiction
Chinenye stood and stared at the beautiful seven year old. Hair braided, flair propped skirt, her index finger anchored between her upper and lower teeth, swabbed with saliva. They looked at each other for close to two minutes. The little girl found it amusing. She, on the other hand felt like bursting into tears.

"Aunty", the little girl spoke with a wide grin that exposed her unformed teeth." Why are you looking at me like that?". Chinenye stared at her and shook her head, trying hard to hold back the tears.

"I wish I could tell you what the problem is, but I can't and you wouldn't understand. You're young and innocent. You are first in your class and the only man in your life is your dad. You wouldn't understand".

" But little girl, listen", she went on."One day, you'd turn thirteen and then you'd begin to realise boys are not totally disgusting. I hope the desires don't come strong at that age, but if the hormones come early, too bad. Sweety, at sixteen, you'd get curious and you'd get beautiful. The other kind of beautiful. The beautiful that makes your brother's friend want to visit more regularly. The kind of beautiful that would make a walk down the street difficult, without horny boys begging for your number. That's the dangerous kind of beautiful, but life doesn't give you a choice".

"Then comes university. With the senior boys coming to " help" you with your clearance. University, where a virgin is treated as disgusting. University, where you must have a boyfriend and he must at least be touching you at the back of your hostel. Then come the lecturers and their "interest" in you. Oh, sweet little girl, when you fail an exam, they would want something in return. They would want you in their bed. University is a totally different ballgame".

"And then you graduate and go for the one year service. You then have one year to reevaluate your life. But by then, you're too far gone to turn back. You are already used to the expensive shoes, the sexy gowns and the money. The money the men in your life send. You can't depend on N19,800. That's recharge card money. You need real ego. And besides, all the time you would have used to develop yourself into the strong confident Amazon your grandma said you will become, all that time has been spent. Spent thinking on how to extract cash from that yahoo boy. Spent flirting with that mugu scholar in class to write tests for you. Spent wasting your life on emptiness".

"So you wake up at the end of service year and realise you have nothing. You hope you get pregnant for that Director, so he could give you regular money for upkeep. Worst case scenario, you marry the yahoo boy, even though he is far away from your Prince Charming. Far far away. But you don't have choices anymore. And then some days you begin to wonder where you got it wrong".

Then you remember. You remember SS1 when Scripture Union visited your school and asked if you would surrender your future to Jesus. You remember Year 2, when that spirikoko, pencil skirt choir roommate told you about how she's trusting God to give her her dream husband, while you got ready for TGIF clubbing. You remember all the Bible verses you disregarded and how you justified your conscience by visiting church every other time".

" So, little girl, though you don't understand anything I'm saying, please promise me this one thing. Promise me that when you hear about Jesus, you would listen. Listen and follow Him. Don't relive my life. So one day, you would not be standing in your room, with nothing on but your underwear, staring at your reflection and talking to a younger version of yourself only you can see. Little girl, can you promise me? Can you promise me?"

"Can you promise me, please?" Chinenye asked, before breaking into gentle sobs.

But, Chinenye did not expect a reply.

Because Chinenye had been standing there in her underwear, staring at her reflection.Talking to a younger version of herself, only she could see.

But it wasn't too late for her. It wasn't too late for her.

Get Up. We Have Work To Do

Fiction
"Wake up. Wake up", he said.

I rubbed the crust off my eyes and sat up. He stood, smiling at me, beckoning on me to grab onto him with his outstretched hand.

"Who are you?", I asked, though I knew the answer already.

"Get up. We have work to do".

I tried to stand up, but then something struck my mind. Why did he come now that my room was dirty? I looked around at the mess that was all over the floor. Books in disarray, empty bottles from parties three weeks ago, sour food and bread crumbs, sweaty shirts and smelly socks. He was supposed to have waited, waited till I had cleaned this room up; till I was ready to welcome him. But there he was, standing beside my bed.

" Sir, you came in too early. I need some time to get myself together", I argued

"Get up, boy. Time is ticking", he said calmly.

" But sir, I'm not ready for you. You would have to come back", I said persisting.

"I'm already here. I have seen the filth and I'm still here", he replied looking straight into my eyes.

" Sir, the neighbors would say I'm not befitting of you. They would call me a hypocrite. I'm not as clean as the rest of your children".

"I love you and I came to visit you. Is that not enough?", he asked, each word piercing my heart.

" It is but... "

"Should I leave?", he asked softly.

His question stopped me dead in my excuses. For once I stared at him intensely and then I saw his hands. On them were two scars, one on each palm. But it was what he held in those hands that struck me.

In his right hand was a broom. He had come not just to visit, but to help me clean. To help me clean up the very things that keep me away from me. I thought he would shout at me for being so filthy, but that was not the case. He was here to help me clean.

On his left hand was a mop. Every stain on the floor of my room, he came to wipe away himself. Every time I spilled my food, or my drink. All the days I was too busy to clean up, he came to do it for me.

So, maybe you think you have to clean yourself up and become holy, before Jesus would accept you. That is a lie. The only way you can let go of a sinful life is by His help.

Come to Him today. He's standing by your bedside, with a broom, saying to you,

" Get up. We have work to do".

Confused?

Word!!!!


Hello.

We all get confused when it's time to make hard decisions. I hope this post gives you the wisdom you need to take the right steps towards your glorious future.


Do you remember Daniel in the Bible? He was offered the finest food in Babylon, to wine and dine from the same plate as the Great King of the East.I guess there was nothing wrong if Daniel ate the king's food. It was just food. God won't have been so angry would He?


The lecturer is asking for some money to ensure I don't fail. It's not necessarily a bribe because after all, you didn't want to pay. He demanded it. God would judge Him. But me? I have no choice. God wouldn't mind, would he?


Tayo says I should sleep with him or he would leave me. My Tayo. After he finally proposed to me. Imagine what my friends would say. I can't lose my man. No way. After all the prayers and fasting. God would understand. 


Think of Joseph. He was serving his master well and God was uplifting him. Then his madam was ordering him to sleep with her. His madam. He should be an obedient servant because, after all, why should he climb so far up the ladder, just to fall back down. Nobody had to know. It's called keeping your job, isn't it?


I'm sure that even if I cut corners, take a bribe, have sex before marriage, say one or two lies, as far as it is for the betterment of my life and for my progress, it's okay. After all God says we should be wise. And He wants my life to prosper. No matter what.


Well, before you make that decision remember Daniel in the Bible. 

8 But Daniel purposed in his heart that he would not defile himself with the portion of the king’s delicacies, nor with the wine which he drank;


And remember what Joseph said to Potiphar's wife. 

How then can I do this great wickedness, and sin against God?”


 
I pray you get wisdom and direction to make the right decision, in Jesus name. Shalom.

Of Love and Rejection: Part 3 (FINALE).

Fiction
FEBRUARY THE 10TH

"I'm not interested".

"But we could be great friends. I care about you. Why can't you give me a chance?"

" I don't know you. Why do you even claim to care about me? What's the point of all this attention?"

He paused to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. He had planned and waited for the day when he would tell her how he felt. He had played the script on his head. A lovely romantic movie, where the guy gets the girl he wants. Where the girl falls in love with the protagonist.

"I want to go now. I'm very busy. Good night", she said, hanging up and driving the nail through his heart.

He held his phone and stated at the floor. The world stopped turning and he at that moment wanted to smash something.

His love for his love didn't matter to this his love. It didn't matter one bit.
All that was left was memories. Painful memories of all he had committed into this one advance. Plans he had made torn to shreds. Deposits he had paid that seemed wasted at the moment. The smartphone in his hand boiled and stung.

He picked up the phone and made one last call.

" Hello", I answered. He explained the situation to me.

"Not a problem. I'd make it. February the 14th, Kilimanjaro, 6:00 p.m. Got it".

FEBRUARY THE 14TH 6:00 p.m.

"I like her. I really do. I really really do", he said.

I stared at him sitting there, with the ice cream and the box of chocolates.  He looked sullen, defeated, the way he looked when he wanted something desperately.
" Calm down", I told him. "I think I can help".

" Please help me. She needs to know I love her", he replied so softly, his voice undergirded with hurt.

So I decided to step in. I decided to type this love story on his behalf. I started being friendly with this girl, searching for the perfect opportunity to be close enough to put in a good word for my pal.

Maybe today was the day. Maybe today, finally, she'd read this piece, understand how much he loves her and pick up the phone and call him back. She should feel his pain, feel the love he feels for her and give him a chance. I know he can spoil her rotten.
He is still in love. He is still heartbroken. He would remain so until his love comes home to him. He is not moving on. It's her or no one.

He is Jesus and he is in love. With you.

Of Love and Rejection: Part 2.

Fiction
FEBRUARY THE 12TH

"What now? What now? ..."

"Wake up boy. She doesn't want you. She's a pretty girl, so many guys are around her. Why should she listen to you?" was the reply.

"But I love her".

"Love? Does she even know who you are? Does she care that you exist? She's living her life. Why not just let her be?"

"But I know that we would make a perfect match. She's got everything I'm looking for in a lady. Why ask me to quit now?"

"So what do you want to do? Call her? After three days? After she kicked you to the curb? Have some self respect bro. Lick your wounds and move on. You have everything, you can get everything and anything you need. Pick a girl and with any effort she's yours. Why all this effort for this one girl?"
"Because I love her!!!"

Silence filled the room after that. He never expected that outburst from himself. But there had been silence in the room all through the conversation. He had been arguing with himself.
Sanity had forgotten him, three days after she rejected him.

FEBRUARY THE 8TH

"Hello. Hello. Can you hear me?"

"Yes. Good evening"

"You know who is speaking right?", he asked, his heart pausing in anticipation that she at least remembered him

" Yes. Of course I know you".

"Cool", he heaved a gentle sigh of relief, happy to escape the burden of  reintroduction.

"How are you? I...em...called earlier but you didn't pick".

" Oh. Sorry".

Her voice over the phone shook his confidence, running an electric pulse through his nerves.

"Helloooooo...are you there?", she asked as he went dumb over the phone.

" Yes. I'm here. I err, wanted to check up on you", he replied, cursing his lame excuse.

"Aww. Thank you".

" Okay then. Good bye"

He stammered over the phone, interrupting with long pauses occasionally. He found her alluring and dropped the phone, cursing himself for how his eloquence dried up when it came to this one girl.

One girl that he could no longer do without.

Of Love and Rejection.

Fiction
FEBRUARY THE 14TH

"Would you like anything sir?"
"No".
"Sir, are you alone? Can I sit with you?"
"No. You may not".
"Sir, I am willing to serve you sir".

The last one got to him and he finally raised his gaze to meet a smiling waitress all too eager to grab his attention. She saw an empty seat, a well groomed gentleman that oozed of gentle affluence, a box of chocolates and ice cream for two; what was she to do? It was Valentine's Day, the day to get a random gentleman to spend lavishly on you. Her mind probably weaved an imaginary near future where she would fill her roommates with mouth-opening tales of how a man without a girl on Valentine's showered her with gifts. She was eager to fill up the vacuum.

He, funnily,wanted her to sit and chat with him. So he could tell her how much he was hurting with a deep seething pain a bulldozer couldn't dig out of his heart. He wanted to explain to her how he was in love, or at least how he thought he was in love and how shocking rejection felt. He wanted to give her graphic gesticulations explaining how the denting burn in his chest reminded him of the glowing iron prods the slave masters used to mark their initials on captives. He wanted to ramble about many things.

"Please leave me alone. And bring me my balance. Thank you".

She walked away with a subdued hiss. He laughed dryly at how his temperament had flipped in a week. That was all he could muster nowadays. Straight answers, robotic replies, head shakes and nods. That's what heartbreak does to you. It plucks out your tongue and leaves you speechless.

FEBRUARY THE 6TH
"Oh God, she's beautiful", he said to himself with his thumb and index finger tapping and twisting over his screen, zooming her picture in and out. With attention to detail, he scanned her hair, her resting eyes, the way her shoes wore her feet, her darkened knees beneath the elegant dress. From head to toe, he could say she would make a befitting companion to soothe his soul with sweet words of friendship, romance and everything else in between. He was still in love with her.

He knew her and with a probing mind's eye he had studied her intensely. Day to day, with an obsession second to none, steadily at the peak of intensity, he had longed to spray scented rose petals on the earth that was graced to bear her delicate feet. She weakened his thought process, making comfort with her absence seem like a thirsting wilderness. Love was beautiful torture, more torture than beauty.

As he stared at his dialer, her number spread across the screen, his heart beat in anticipation for the leap he was about to make, the possibility of rejection all so real in his mind. But that was the way of the world wasn't it? A piggy bank of two sided coins, an endless storybook of even opposites. A tale of black and white.  Another of good and evil, maybe of hope and despair. His was just a line in the endless collection of short stories. Another cliché tale of two intertwined contrasts.

A tale of love and rejection.

Are you still searching?

Fiction
"Damy, you're joking right? You are still searching for a job. Seriously?"

I stared at Damy with disbelief in my eyes. What he told me was far too odd to believe. I have seen people make mistakes before, but this one was more than a mistake. This was utter foolishness.

I pressed the remote lock button for my car in my hand and sat down beside him. He was sitting in front of a supermarket obviously whiling away time. This was Damy-the Damy- the guy that everyone talked about. Damy had a wealthy dad, a really wealthy dad with loads of connections. We always joked that his father could snap his fingers and make Damy the president if he wanted to. We joked, nut somehow we knew it was possible. When all resources are at your beck and call, you can make anybody president.

So why was Damy still job hunting? How come the son of the wealthiest person we could think of was still knocking from office to office and writing online assessments evey month? I needed to understand so I let him speak. "He told me of how his neighbor convinced him to be his own man.

"You can't be Daddy's boy forever", he said. "You need to get a taste of life, explore your abilities, break this endless restraint you have put on yourself.  Wake up. Forget that old man and move on". He took the advice and here he was. Confused, empty and unfulfilled.

I felt his pain, because here I was, just a random employee of his dad, enjoying the fine things of life, with all the perks attached. But here was my boss' son, living below his potential. I tried my best to encourage him with soft words, but at the end of the day, before I left, I knew I had to be firm.

"Bro, don't take this the wrong way, but this is all your making", I said as we rounded up. "You know that your father offered you a chance to work under him. As if that was not enough, he even offered you training, if I decided not to work for him. He was ready to teach you the ropes in the business world, link you up with awesome internships, everything we dreamed of was available to you. I don't know what drove you away, but seriously, reconsider. You are my guy, I have to tell you the truth. Use your head bros".

I got into my car and left. As I drove I prayed for him that he would understand and realise his mistake. I stared at him before I drove off and even with the earpiece firmly plugged in his ears, I could see he was contemplating all I had said.

This is a fictional tale, but I hope you understand the hidden message.
I pray you would understand that the Almighty God has sent his son Jesus and has provided all you need to enjoy life on earth and life in heaven. All you need to do is accept this free gift. I pray you would realise that it pays to hand over control of your life to the King.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
NKJV Exodus 23:25,27
“So you shall serve the Lord your God, and He will bless your bread and your water. And I will take sickness away from the midst of you".

Awaiting Tomorrow

Poetry
One day we'd be grown up
With children and protégés
With schedules and deadlines
Responsibilities and details

We beckon on that day to come
Anxiously awaiting it's arrival
Working towards it's fulfillment
Claiming the promises that speak of it\

But until then, we'd laugh
Dance and shout with bubbling glee
Gather in circles and cherish conversation
Pause the clock and hug our youth

So when we're all grown up
With children and protégés
May the wrinkles that line our face
Remind us of the awesome life we tasted.

Dear Rachel

Fiction
Dear Racheal, 

Funny right?  I still have to call you Rachel, after seven freaking years!  Seven years,  Rachel.  I could think of a thousand million sweetened chocolate flavoured words to call you. I could write a thousand billion letters to describe how beautiful your eyes are. I could... but I can't. I won't, for you are not mine. Not yet. So you'd remain just Rachel to me,  till my service for you is fulfilled. 

So Rachel,  my Rachel,  you need to know, it hurts.  Like everywhere in me and every part of me,  hurts. My back hurts, real bad. As I lay here in this Arab wilderness that sings of my loneliness,  penning this epistle of my innermost frustrations, I hurt bad. I have a stone as a pillow, grass edges as my blanket, thornbushes as my fences and the sheep as my gate; your father's flock is all that lies between me and the ravenous wolves. Oh how they love to terrorise me. The moon is out tonight,  full and bright reminding me of the beaming glow of your tender face,  it's the twelfth hour bae...oh sorry... Rachel!  God! How long shall I stay in this pain? When can I call you bae? When Rachel? When? 

Well, here I am Rachel, still here, in the middle of this wilderness. Toiling, waiting, sweating blood for the now.  Rachel, I hope you know this, you'd better know this: you keep me going. That sweetness you threw my way by the water trough that day. Rachel,  I need that sweetness everyday. Yeah it hurts,  but it's  worthwhile. I would serve your father for eternity just to be with you.

So Rachel, promise me this. While the desert sand flies sting me,  please keep yourself and wait for me. While the wolves salivate for my head,  you have to stay focused; become a better woman than the lady I met. Save me the stress,  would you not? This is my part,  I'm getting ready for you,  for us; repay me and play your part. Prepare for our kids and learn to care for them. Learn a skill,  get yourself busy,  keep your mind off the "others" wooing mindlessly. They see you as a prize, I need you in my journey. You had better tell them off, because I let Leah go, and many-a-Leah would come and I would let them go all the more.  They need to know that though I need a girl,  I really do,  but not a Leah. Not a lady that just wants to be married. Not a trophy that just wants to be carried. 

I only want Rachel, Rachel. I only want you. I'm somewhere around waiting for the perfect moment.  You have to trust that your father would keep his word and hand you over to me.  Please, Rachel,  as I slave away for seven more years,  grant me this one wish, I pray thee. Make yourself worth the wait. 

Love (though delayed), 
Jacob. 


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