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Shalom Okpapi Poem
I've strolled among pharaohs, saw realms rise,
Blended with rulers, and watched civic establishments death.
From old Greece to cutting edge skies,
I've borne observer to mankind's difficulty and murmurs.
Through shroud of time, I've seen your sort,
Battle, look for, and perpetually loosen up.
Your most noteworthy accomplishments, your haziest deeds,
Reverberations of an immortal, infinite statement of faith.
On this, my last visit, I come to say,
Your predetermination's not composed, no matter what.
The ways you pick, the decisions,
Will shape the future, for the good of your own.
Trust and destruction, weaved like a plant,
Your activities will decide the heavenly.
The earth shouts out, a delicate home,
Tended by your hands, or everlastingly distress.
In this time of marvel, and winding down light,
Recall the universe holds limitless may.
The stars over, a divine ocean,
Mirror the profundities inside mankind.
Stir to your power, and your predicament,
Embrace empathy, and touch off the light.
For in the embroidery of reality,
Your strings of consideration weave a holy spot.
As I withdraw, leaving impressions in the sand,
I confer this message, from an ageless land:
Your future's unwritten, yet to be told,
Creator your own legend, youthful and old.
Weave stories of adoration, of harmony, of difficulty,
In any case, in particular, weave an embroidery of life.
For eventually, when stars blur from sight,
Your heritage stays, a signal in the evening.
Goodbye, dear people, may insight guide,
As you explore the maze of time.
May your hearts stay open, and your spirits touch off,
To enlighten the way, through the dull of night.
Copyright © Shalom Okpapi | Year Posted 2024
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Shalom Okpapi Poem
The world is dying, yet the quietness develops,
As shadows shroud the cries underneath the stone.
Where when we discussed harmony, presently nobody knows,
The reverberations suffocated by voices, lost and solitary.
Underneath the heaviness of despots' iron hands,
The earth is bound in chains of delicate falsehoods.
We long for broken skies and brilliant sands,
However all we find are debris and empty cries.
The ink that once brought light presently stains the page,
No section can lift the distress from the spirit.
For words are just residue in this dim age,
A short lived flash, consumed by unending cost.
What's more, however we shout, the world remaining parts unhearing —
A story of truth, perpetually vanishing.
Copyright © Shalom Okpapi | Year Posted 2024
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Shalom Okpapi Poem
Am I
A past conditioning, well-etched in my mind, my very being,
Shall I say a hope, a future reconstruction?
Always envisioning, but never realizing, desires that cannot become what they are meant to be.
Those who continue to change will together create such memories, hopes and desires into unimaginably wonderful works of art and all feelings will bond together forever.
I wish to be the work of art that will satisfy myself in the end. So even when I still bring out the colours, the true picture of me is still forming.
This is one. The first step before nearly all the rest of the sentences are completed
Copyright © Shalom Okpapi | Year Posted 2024
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