Shoes or chains of gold
Not bothered about setting goals
Or storing up cash in treasure troves
He pays no rent;
The sky is the roof over his head,
The cold wind his blanket,
Under the bridge, his apartment.
His feet take him where cars can;
So he bothers not, if fuel is scarce,
Not pressured by relatives,
No expectations from society
Contentment he finds in his squalor;
So he worries not about work,
Does not have to impress any boss,
For the pay cheque every month.
So in awe I asked,
Oh mad man, how can you be this relaxed?
He turned to me and smiled
Saying, “son, this is the secret of life.
Worry not about the morrow,
It may bring fortune or sorrow
Discover you own road,
Even if it means standing alone
Weary and vanquished, we all lay,
In this utopic race of rats
For naked we came, so we leave
The sanity in my insanity”
Written by: Nwakanma Chika
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.