the creed in their ways brings no gain,
they see the glories of each day
and dwell in the fact of what they say
Their faith was lost to the deeds of time
and fall to weakness in prime,
they pile up hopes and long to change
the boundless cowardice of their age.
A God of love is what they serve
but the heart of love they don’t have,
senseless strength is what they cherish
and by what they build they do perish.
With stony hearts, they forgive no wrong
but they wish, as they tangle along,
for what good could it possibly do,
if they have not the joy of being good?
They dwell within what they have not seen
and seek the will of what they have being,
their selfish desire prevails over all
and loud is the crash when they fall.
meet the poet: Fesojaiye Dayz Atanle
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