ifedayo oshin, 28 lutego 2012
It isn’t the pen, but the writer
Not the tracks, but the runner
It isn’t the tool, but the workman
It
isn’t the sex, but the person
It
is not the color, but character
Not
the creed, but the spirit
it
is not the rhetorics, but the actions
It isn’t the action, but the attitude
Not the speech, but the thoughts
It isn’t money, but its uses
It isn’t the end, but the means
Not the conquests of yesterdays but today’s challenges
Its
n't yesterday, but today and tomorrow
It isn’t the status, but the person
Not the messenger, but the message
It isn’t the law, but the user
It isn’t the song, but its rhythms
Not the policies, but the people
It isn’t time length, but its quality
It is not the smoke, but the cause
Not the person, but its principles
Not the looks, but the values
Not the party, but the ideologies
It isn’t the theories, but the practices
Not the place, but the people
it
is not your race, but our humanity
It is not I, but
you
It isn't you,
but us
Not one but all
... that ever counts
ifedayo oshin, 28 lutego 2012
Longest night it was
The morning refused to rise
Languidly, it wrapped itself in a dark cover
Morning dew were long overdue
And darkness took the rein of power
Wielding sword of impenetrable blackness
Stoical, uncompromising and mysterious
Cocks crowed and crowed till cowered
The mist perpetuated itself
The dawn withdrawn to oblivion
The sun turned its black side
Time succumbed to the subtlety of nature
The night encroached the day
People slept and slept till spent
The day the night shift ran amok
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