Can one travel back in time to start afresh?
But what start could be so afresh than the startling start of a starter’s start?
The mystery of a start is the greatest of all
I would do says a baffling mind
I would say, says a lazy tongue
But do we see by acting blind?
Can we be right by acting wrong?
The poet creates words bringing life
The artist paints pictures describing it
But to what do lazy hands dive?
I think they exist just to end in pits
Great men sing songs of action
They don’t wait for the iron to be hot
They plan with great deliberation
Then proceed with a plan already thought
Riches abound where words are less
Not to the strong neither the brilliant
It gently sips to the hands readily stretched
From a gentle mind, green and succulent
But we wait and think it falls from heaven
Never preparing yourself for the morrow
We wait to see how our wealth will be given
Hard work seems to be the road so narrow.
Working hard isn’t cool
But staying broke seems hot
Let me sleep I’ll do tomorrow says a fool
But wakes to see an empty pot
We were born for a particular purpose
To overcome our fears and fly high
Laziness and worry we welcome unopposed
When the head is off can one cry?
Contributor: Ekpegbue Stanley.
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