There’s something in us that was made for glory
It seeks, desperately craves attention
An insatiable abyss
Potholes on Eko streets
Never-ending…
No matter how famous we get,
it keeps us thirsting, yearning, begging
for more
panting, salivating even when
our lips are sealed shut
mad dogs in bespoke suits
some of us mask it, others can’t afford the balaclavas
a goal to some, a ball to others
same playing field, just different boot sizes
scoring accounts and autographing with brown "lip sticks"
and when the vaults are empty
or the stubs stop smoldering
we sing Oliver Twist
to the heartbeat of wall street
and queue at the orchard for the next potter…
Clays never satisfied with their update,
shapes constantly negating their mold.
It’s a sleek strip of red rainbow,
hot multi-faceted hunger
emoji’d on screens glaring back at our void souls.
It’s perplexing how no app
has been programmed for it yet, perhaps
no angel investor has
deep enough pockets to swallow the projections...
truth like brick only rips our gullets
and cravings are profitable,
yet profits don’t lie with us
when we reminisce at the sunset of our seas
so let’s cavalry to the beach
and watch the next expendables – our reflections in the
water
what we could be -
content, satisfied beings in YHWH’s glory
beautiful tapestries soiled by humus that came from
dust…
contorted beyond the recognition of He who wove them
There’s something in us that was made for glory
And it is only in Him that we will find it
Image: courtesy of LionAid via google.com
