Confused

Alone in the dark, he wanders.

Searching for the Light.

Awaiting the glimmer of that ray

That proceeds its arrival.

Lost within himself, he wonders,

What the missing piece might be.

Skilled in the art of puzzles,

But with square pegs for round holes.

 

A stitch in time saves nine.

And to every purpose, there is a time.

He must not delay,

Else, the fruit gets rotten.

Should he be too fast,

It is plucked unripe.

 

Still he awaits the Light,

To reveal what is hidden.

To show what must be done,

And even when to get it done.

 

©Peter Akhere.

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