The First Hour After Christ's Day

In the first hour after Christ’s day When we may still think of silent nights My room on the outskirts of Ojo Endures the steady groaning of the “I pass my neighbour” In the first hour after Christ’s day Lagos throbs We hear the bombs you know, Fire crackers and fire bombs In the first hour after Christ’s day I sit on my mattress And I travel the Arabian nights From Yemen, to Cairo, to Baghdad In the first hour after Christ’s day I let the mind drift afar To great dreams and big hopes Feats becoming men who strove with gods In the first hour after Christ’s day I give reason to my days And thought to my waste How shall the end be? In this first hour after Christ’s day I cast, foretell I dream of beauty I’ve never seen A heavenly place