Blindsight

Some would argue that the eyes are the soul’s camera. many claim, “seeing is believing’.

But is it really?

It often happens that the things we crave the most  prevents us from attaining any substantial truth about life

Of course books are stimulating but experiences bridge the  gateway of knowledge, and wisdom is wholesome where experience isn’t sufficient.

If you think about it, you’ll realise that each day,  life wraps a little gift for you and I. All we have to do is extract the diamond from a coal mine. Sometimes knowing where to look may seem like a real superpower.

It is and it’s not.

Seeing is believing, but where did you look today?

When the bad happening in our lives seem like they outweigh the good times, and nothing adds up, man must risk considering every nugget of  perspective.

By the end of the week, we are supposed to be swimming in gold jasmine water but most of the time, we are drowning in molten hot larva. How sad.

As a coterie, we are  genetically predisposed with abundant potential. Conversely, We happen to also be blind

No not literally.

However, we allow fear to intrude and mask who we are, the people around us, and certainly the power within us

A simple, yet fairly impractical example of  what I mean is when Mufasa appeared to Simba and presented him with a little hindsight. Except our lives are neither linear timeline like stories, nor is any one gonna appear be brutally honest (except for me, your carefree godmother)

And What is this power you ask?

For one, hope is the tree from our unique potential shines through. If we never hope then we will never see. Supplementing  hope are endurance and love. I like to think of them as the trinity of  human race

You couldn’t find it because you were either not looking or didn’t know where to look. But now that you are, can you see it ?

A Question of Morality

Or perhaps it is even one of godliness, either ways it goes thus

In the little town of Mayoma,  there lived a lady. Let’s call her Savannah. Savannah was an average woman, wasn’t poor but she wasn’t rich. Wasn’t void of responsibility but didn’t have an overwhelming lot either.

She wasn’t exceptionally good, but she kept away from evil

The lady loved pies. She ate them all year round, albeit she couldn’t make them,  therefore, she visited several bakeries in Mayoma in hopes of finding the best pie-maker.

That was when she met the baker from yonder. She was a good baker,  but Savannah knew they were not the best pie she would ever taste.

But you see, Savannah had underestimated her quest, by now she was far too fatigued to find the best pie-maker. So she settled and said;

mmhmm, good Baker from yonder, your pies are good-ish, might you be so kind to share with me the recipes as well as bake a pie twice a week for me?”

The Baker replied; “Savannah, the lukewarm lady. You are neither here nor there. I thought you will never ask.” 

“How should we arrange this”, asked Savannah

“You shall come to me Mondays and Fridays. Each time you will get a different pie and I shall teach you the recipe. For this it should be 10 shillings each meeting , but since you’ll come twice a week, I offer you for 8 shillings”

Savannah agreed to terms of the female Baker from Yonder and they proceeded with their meetings.

One Monday, due to natural causes, Savannah could not make it to the baker’s shop. She contacted the baker. 

The baker was angry-ish, but she said to Savannah, ” look! today I do not charge you, but in the future when you will not give me at least a 24 hr notice, then you will pay for the cold pie”

“Thank you dear”, said Savannah, “but then I must reduce our interaction to once a week, as my responsibilities have rippled since our arrangement”

“Then you shall pay me 10 shillings and nothing less”

And so Savannah visited the her only on Fridays. Whether she went late or not, she paid as agreed. 

However, the baker did not always honor the terms. She would be busy doing her laundry, or grooming  her cat instead of teaching Savannah. Frequently, the Baker from yonder would end their session before it was up.

Savannah respected the baker nonetheless, and admired her hustle. Therefore she made no complains against her, instead she continued searching for a baker with special recipes that’ll enrapture her tongue and heart.

And she did, but as a courtesy to the Baker from yonder, she refrained from ending their meeting abruptly and informed the baker that their contract should end with the month

One Friday,  while preparing to visit the Baker from yonder, Savannah’s sister developed a medical emergency. Naturally Savannah skipped the meeting and gave the Baker yet another last minute notice.

The Baker from yonder did not care to understand the events surrounding the absence,  she hadn’t made any pie either, yet she ordered Savannah to pay 20 Shillings on the next occasion.

Savannah being neither friend nor foe, weighed the situation and narrowed her decision to two options;

On one hand, she could end their future meetings , but visit the Baker from yonder to pay 10 shillings for the missed session.

On the other hand, she could be irrational and give the baker nada coupled with never visiting her bakery again.

How do you think Savannah should proceed? How would you react if you were the baker?  what steps would you take to rectify a future misunderstanding between the two entities?

Thanks for reading. The image above was way cuter than any pie images 🙂

Stay Blessed!

Glorious

I believe I saw a sphinx.

He stretched over his heels 

eyes transfixed at a door,

mine also

I stood in front of it

hieroglyphs were engraved on it

here I could understand it

and it read;

“The volatile prose of a poet’s hand is dead.”

When I looked back,

the creature was gone

like gun powder shot from a cannon

I slid my body through the creaking door

and found myself in a courtyard

long as my eyes could see

I met a girl there

she said to call her Bianca

She had cherry lips and green eyes

She was  pretty too

yet the most interesting thing 

Bianca could walk on walls

she giggled and motioned to me

coaxing me to do it

so I tried

and fell once, twice, seven

till I found my footing

I followed Bianca on the walls

then we came to a door

Neon,  impossible to miss

I went through it

and Bianca waved goodbye behind

everywhere was dark there

I heard a soft giggle

it came from an old lady

she had a quilt and knitting needles on her thighs

then she turned her back to me

I could only hear the klick-klack

of her opposing thumbs

and I went closer to her

her hands were as cheerful as her spirit

on her quilt bore words which read;

“looks can be deceiving”

immediately I felt a hurricane

before my eyes,  the lady began to crack

she fell apart like a clay jug

pieces of her laid at my feet

the earth shook again

everything was toppling in the air

and when it stopped

I saw a broken door

I pieced it’s part together like a puzzle

and jumped through it

The light on the other side blinded me

it was though darkness found me

no matter how I tried to escape

I dug into my pocket

and pulled out an handkerchief

the one my mother told me 

to take everywhere I went

I tied it around my eyes

and began to feel my away through

for the most part I felt nothing

then my hands touched something;

hard, smooth built

marble maybe?

I couldn’t make out the figure

and while I hurriedly rubbed my hands

I felt something else

warm, pulsating. Alive

It had a face 

what human could see here, I wondered

He grabbed my arm

I heard an agonising buzz

In moments, I would screech in pain

my voice resounded in the estate

I yanked my arm away

but he was stronger

he latched on even tighter

any harder and my bones would be crushed

So I stopped resisting

I let him drive the needle into my arm

when the buzzing stopped

he wrapped my arm in warm linen

and guided me across the foyer

with my one good hand

I felt for a door handle

he released my hand, stepping back

and with my last shred of dignity, I screamed;

“Before I leave tell me, what are you?

the silence and my lack of sight

caused me to believe he was gone

So I  went through the doorway

As I slammed the door with much regret, I heard;

“I am one less thing than you”

I  released my eyes

I could see mostly shapes

I hastingly unwrapped my arm

but couldn’t make out the words on my skin

then I heard an organ

it filled the space with  eery music

the music had a mellow and comforting element

at the same time, it sounded belligerent

like the only reason it was calm

was to provoke torture at the end of each note

and just when I was at the brink of insanity

it became beautiful again

I wanted to get out, yet wanted to stay

Finally, I decided to find the musician

I searched every cranny til my feet bled

there was no musician

there was no organ

there was just me floating in space

with severely blurry vision

and a tattoo on my hand

As I looked for the exit door,

I heard a sly voice; “Do you like it?”

It was the Sphinx.

“You speak! no, it’s driving me crazy”

“Fantastic”, he said, “but you should sleep.”

‘fore I could counter, my body became overwhelmingly heavy

I was falling towards the ground.

As my head hit a surface, I jerked out of  bed

I was awake.

whilst trying to recount the details of this dream

 I felt an ever so slight tingling

on my non- dominant arm

pulling up my sleeves, on my wrist was the tattoo

One word,

Glorious.

Celebration of life

 

 

Encoré

The magnificent stage light illuminates

Each day the theatre curtains raise

but the show isn’t forever

 

 

I know they played their lives well

for even the people who did not know them

sang genuinely of their kindness

 

 

I envy their peace

they fulfilled their purpose

and now a burden has been lifted off their shoulders

 

Sweet scented  flowers surround their tombstone

Their body, tho worthless now

Their integrity will never be

 

May angels guide their soul

gravitating them in confident joy

’til we hear the call of our Saviour

 

There will be an end to diabetics

The barriers of  breast cancer will be loose

where you are, no man can drown

 

I celebrate their inspiring lives

because they celebrated our friendship

even when I didn’t acknowledge it

 

I celebrate their beauty

their legacies are engraved in the sands of time

even more so when they’ll don their new aliferous bodies

 

The game has always been rigged

we’ve had no leverage

yet soon we share in glory, eternal

 

I long to see them

revere in their embrace again

as we transcend the earth and it’s long suffering