The Mosaic
The mosaic
A myriad of faces,
Most, long and forlorn,
Each in a constant flux,
Eking out a living
Worry, deeply etched,
Like parallel ridges,
On an otherwise barren waste
The many faces,
Painted with the ink,
Of the pains,
Of successive failed leaderships,
On the canvas; Nigeria
A giant mosaic -
A picture, yet of hope,
Hope deeply engraved,
On our collective psyche
Our collective psyche-
A Mosaic
Of our individual pessimism,
Nurtured in the manure
Of perpetual system decay,
It's foul stench,
Slowly eroding our gaiety,
Yet, delicately perfumed,
Perfumed by our collective hope,
Our hope for a better tomorrow
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