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The moon dim his light and withdrew himself
to the shelters of the cloud;with his "libre" stars
bowing to the approaching king of light
The sun smiles as it was his turn to light the golden globe, his powerful beam heralds the of a new day;of dark years roll by like a quick glance
His angry rays stays long in the dry marsh, not wanting
to the icy partitioning for fear of losing his strength
The rain sensing the danger draws alongside him
the tsunami wind of change, his fall was massive;
bringing away so much victims. Cries were heard...the victims cry.
Usurper! The man who played God, "where art thou and thy strength?" Your talons dripped in blood will hurriedly be discarded by the gushing wind, the rushing flood from the falling rain
The victims are the pride of the globe, they live
beyond the hills, far and out of reach in the unseen sky. A place for the downtrodden of the earth, where their God lives, he watches over them, their "corazon"; for this was meant to be
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friday solomon
I love writing because it gives me joy to be able to release my stress,my frustration and anger on governments the world over on the ills,the inequalities and indifferent attitudes taking place in their communities.I am happy that TIG offers such a portal to pick up my idle pen and paper and pass issues across for other people to read.This enables me to also to read issues affecting other people across the world,together we can press on with the struggle and impart our various communities.Inspired greatly by my Lord and Saviour Jesus, Amen.
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