I traveled with Gulliver in his travails
Often times involving in shipwreck-
Or becoming prisoner of the Lilliputians of life.
I sailed on the ocean of life-
Getting marooned on an island called strife.
I must live; but life someday I must leave.
I thread this path with none to share in my grief
Worried that someday the planter will come to fall his tree.
Guns marching forth on the street of Glover;
Sending its victim on holiday to the cemetery at Akoka.
Speeding vehicles diving deep in the belly of the ocean
Conflagrations wailing along the neighbourhood,
Devouring what is left of the existence of man.
This death, this pain and this hopelessness-
Are the travails warped around our mortal existence-
Which to its realities we shall wake up to when we are long gone.