They kept a record of time,
They were history’s shelves,
They were memory pages,
An honour that ran through the family.
They sang songs of the land,
To them, the sand was more than the traveller’s pathway,
It spoke volumes of the human’s quest and final rest,
They understood how to commune with the spirits of benevolence and goodwill.
They said history is a canvas of dark and bright hues,
The dew of the search for the veiled,
They said that it’s a house whose doors lead to the tides of the heart,
They adore nature,
A nomenclature of wonders untold.
A beautiful old past,
Eroded by a change in clime,
Everyone is occupied by the new way,
The day speaks to saddled minds,
Held by the reins of life’s turbulence.
Thompson Emate spends his leisure time on creative writing, particularly poetry and prose. He has a deep love for nature and the arts. He lives in Lagos, Nigeria.