There was a blind man at Iyana. Dipemu bus stop who lives a stretch hand on a stick under the sun, for at least 2 years that my route had a circuitry around that area in the guise of work.
I made it a routine to out a 100 naira daily, it's a prayer may the less of your seeing become more for me, and I dreamt a lot during this period and oversaw my hindrances starting my path towards liberation.
He couldn't know the denomination that I place on his darkened palm but he knows my heart
What does it means to he imprisoned in that body, what does it mean to be imprisoned in mine.
Driven by delusions I'm a flint away from implosion sometimes, but the oar I use in paddling is the regimen of sacrifices.
I wake up and give something to someone everyday without fail, its a furling anew and recoating of that protective aura considering My will, deed and destiny.
What I conjure up is from an empty, drips in blood and innards and it's an etch irrevocable, having made rails of my path and there will be no stopping me. A part of my life makes my life a steady climb sacrifices are the rungs of life, might it be that I'm off to.. I don't care, blaring horns of certainty on an unknown destination. Concerned only about my surety and resolve.
I say, wake up sacrifice scheduled put a note in a hand as mindless as you ground a step. And it's a step, I'd say, it's mine.
e5
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