by Akinbo, Adebunmi Adeola
Published on: Aug 8, 2008
Topic:
Type: Poetry
https://www.tigweb.org/express/panorama/article.html?ContentID=21511
Not far away stood the hunter’s grandchild, Ota'ibayomi Oba'olorun nii koje with his fathers' apomu at hand. He had listened to the ''ode of the brownfaces'' and expressed awe at its lines. As he left for home, he sang: Is it not Christ that oversees one’s shelter And love one’s beloved’s heart? That so much is gained in union, one reinforcing the other in all; The nacre sourced and discovered more precious than the goldhub itself; I have longed for words so long. Like my forefathers when great game was found, I have found the mother lode. I seek nothing more; Mofolorunsho had hit a vital point in his heart with those few lines that could only have emanated from muses. Overdosed with their scent and the titillating effect of the ogogoro soaking deep within the mist of joy, one could only chorus, Let it be the will of God, not that of man or of those that lust, least we all forget the truth: that love was made for God's people. « return.