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.
Love your neighbour as yourself…
Thus goes the scriptures.
But what if that neighbour is myself,
An image of reflected pictures.
I looked at you and saw a most familiar face.
I listened to your words and heard the echo of my voice.
So I came to hold your hand and I felt my heart race.
Amidst confusing options, I took you for my choice.
Time and time again, discontented my mind was,
Yet to reject, my heart would not partake.
For when I tried, my back to turn against yours,
I saw myself as the image I forsake.
So here I stand looking into the mirror
Seeing your eyes staring back at me
And no matter what I see as a blemish or an error,
I am reminded that you are a part of me.
(C) Peter Akhere
I have been young and I am still young
but the wise have taught me that wisdom is not a function of many years long.
That knowledge is not reflected in the grey scale of a man’s hair,
but in the quality of words proceeding from his tongue.
So make no assumptions – that the old is always right and the young is always wrong.
For if we would let Nature teach us, we could gain direction even by a bird’s song.
(C) Peter Akhere
Here I stand humbled, with face bowed in shame.
Yes I have fumbled and disgraced your name.
But what can I do, to redeem my place.
This I ask of you, that you show me grace.
As I stand, I cry. I mourn for my loss.
As I cry, I try, to reach for the cross.
Cleanse me, this I pray, rid me of my woe.
And wash me today, make me white as snow.
All I ask is this, that you call me son.
And to have your kiss, like a child just born.
I long for a taste, of your soothing rain.
For this I make haste to feel once again.
Take me and restore, light up my darkness.
For you I adore, of you have reverence.
To you I have come, to none I will go.
For me you did come, and this I do know.
You did give me all, and I did not lack.
But I had a fall, to you turned my back.
Restore unto me, that which I have lost.
Please uplift me, raise me from the dust.
For this I will sing and lift up my voice.
You alone are king and I will rejoice.
You are kind to all, in grace not frugal.
So to you I call as a prodigal.
(C) Peter Akhere
Once, I heard a person sing a song.
His words, I thought could be right or wrong.
He had wished he could always be young.
“Impossible”, I said “It can’t be”.
“This, the world is yet to hear and see”
“Like honey could be without the bee”
Some things were just not made to be so.
Every man, when born must have to grow.
And old age is where we all head to.
Suppose these things could really happen,
Men, on earth might live like in heaven…
Or evil might find a safe haven.
But I heard man was not made to die…
And to Life, he not to say goodbye.
This, I know could not have been a lie.
It is written in God’s Holy Book
When the whole earth still had a new look
Before man’s rights, satan came and took.
If only I myself could be so…
So many things I would do and know.
For Life, I would say no goodbye to.
As a youth I would always remain.
And the whole earth would be my domain.
As evil, through me would all be slain.
And now, on Life’s route I walk along,
As a youth with thoughts right and thoughts wrong,
I do wish I could always be young.
One morning I rose up to see the sun.
The dews were fading and soon to be gone.
The day was young for it had just been born.
I stood on the hill to watch life unfold,
With an ear for stories that might be told,
Of or by people going up and down the road.
I saw gold reduce in worth as to clay.
Silver losing value to that of hay
What was once priceless in that good old day.
Fame, I saw men preferred to Dignity.
And wealth, a lot more to Integrity.
But cared not for the priceless Purity.
I heard of one craving for a good end.
But to the right path, he just would not tend.
So even for self, he just could not fend.
To see virtues, I looked from North to South.
I saw people living, but morals without.
They said they’re trash and they feed not the mouth.
The truth which only few could understand,
Was that it’s with these virtues in our hand,
Only can we hope for a better Land.
My consolation came from gems so rare.
By whose conduct my joy really did stir.
For they lived there lives so just and so fair.
Of these were told tales of sincerity.
By their acts came about serenity.
On these I hope for my Society.
(c) Peter Akhere