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Laja, the gods-man mediator
Singing birds hymn his praise
Neighboring men “can’t trace his race”
Yet he dwells amongst them
The lion’s roar is intrepidity
Virgins testify his sanctity

Laja! The gods-man mediator
Running waters tell of his innocence
Innocent but full in sense
Full in sense and takes no nonsense
A Man between man and his creator
Dividing his laps between him and his ancestors

On the palm of Laja rolls the earth
By a snap of his finger he orders death
To children, his lap is a haven
To women his embrace is heaven
To men his laughter heals the heart
To the sick he’s a balm
Late birds pass the night on his palm

The gods to him are near
They tell him of the late nights snare
He echoes their voice to the land of humanity
Knocking off strange fears clogging his sanity

He belongs to the gods
He wasn’t raised from the mud
He’s an heir to their throne
He chose to dwell with men on his own

When time knocked on him
He couldn’t but give his whole being
He gave himself and was nailed
(Though death still had him not jailed)
That the chains on man might fall
Leaving him open to the gods-own-hall

Laja! The gods-man mediator
The only son of the Creator
Ripped of his glory to slay the traitor
And today is named VICTOR

Written by: Adigun Clinton Olushola

Author: admin

I am a member of the WRR editorial team.

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