Living among Gods who cannot speak
While thinking of how to make Dreams the best Robot;
Neither of them brings home through Love,
Or put to birth meaningful Wisdom.
Yet a word composed is good to hear,
But so absurd to see its reality appear.
That in nonsense Life is brought,
When in essence its goodness rot;
For the Risks, Dangers and Hazards sought;
Such upheld more than Gold struck.
Little Wonder the Success is silently won,
As the noise of all odds is celebrated with fun.
So, to everyman who plays the tune of odds,
And dances to the rhythm of a good man’s fortune,
Fewer but nearer is the Glory fading;
In heralds of Praises and loud acclamations.
For tomorrow shall be that unknown day to reckon.
The Patience of the Wise but Quiet effort of that man pulls through.
Who will reveal such a wonder of the work displayed
That denies the price of good fortunes purchased;
When before history made, the thoughts were portrayed,
In raw forms not compared as the test of modern tools betray.
Such gradually transformed to what one hardly invents
As the founder, author or maker glows faint in Glory rays.
A Publication of Onyeador Anthony for Uniquely Mustered