IN THE DAYS OF MEN

IN THE DAYS OF MEN

A chase after the wind,
Bittersweet,
To some we add up to the numbers and to some we are the number.

To some we are no more than faint phrases,
Mistakenly pieced together with other abominable words,
The mind in the wake of its ominous acquaintance is eager to delete.

To some we are beautiful chapters,
The mind blissfully basks in, artistically pieced together with other savourable words,
The mind is dreadfully reluctant to forget.
Such is the conundrum called life;
A masterpiece aesthetically masterminded by the Master of all masters,
A punch above man’s weight.

The fruitless toils of humanity,
Deeply rooted in its quest for happiness;
For futility joyously cleaves to all brazen attempts to banish his anonymity.

Whiles reality without failure,
Consistently enslaves his dreams to elope with meaningness.

Today dominant, tomorrow docile,
Virile are the thoughts that plague his mind,
Yet, servile are the emotions that beset the heart.

Such is man’s eternal tragedy cast in time,
Indeed, a chase after the wind


Writer: SETH YEBOAH
Contact: 024 614 4413

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