Symphony of Souls
My heart, a hallowed sanctuary, Where love's frankincense softly burns A sonnet, melodious and teeming, A famished soul reborn in bliss The solemn breeze whispers your name, The sun smiles, flowers wet in fantasy And as my heart beats, it's a soft, tender caress against yours, A symphony of souls in a timeless, wordless dance. In a field blooming with colourful roses, Where the air breathes the aroma of sweet emotions Your resplendent beauty, a radiant sun, Calls the heaven to bear witness to a beautiful prose I have been baptised with the fragrance of your soul, Like wildflowers kissed by dawn's first light As I paint your heart with the imageries of my name, Colours blend, like a passionate sunset's flame Watch my shadows dance behind you, Ademola, Like playful echoes, mimicking your steps When the sky dons its cloak and the wind, a murmuring poet, Watch my arms unfurl like a golden canopy.
When My Breath No Longer Whispers
I'm but a wraith living in a fleeting dream, A spirit dwelling in an ethereal home Tomorrow, when my breath no longer whispers Do not applaud me with sympathy Here I am, treading a transient path, Catwalking in the footprints of my ancestors, Yet, at dawn, I may disappear into the oblivion Returning home in the clutches of sleep Do not label me a child when I've lived in a century of adventure, Reincarnating to savour memories in a kaleidoscope of hues I once languished in the shadows of obscurity, Until I glimpsed death, adorned in its most chilling costume Tomorrow, I may vanish like the morning mist, Which gracefully dissipates beneath the caress of sun's smile So, when I find my room beneath the earth’s embrace Do not afflict your eyes with desolate tears Instead, let the fragrance of love permeate the air, While we linger, weaving our fleeting moments into the tapestry of time For tomorrow, when my breath no longer whispers.
Requiem for Riches
Money is a delicacy, a satiable craving, A cube of sugar amidst teeming ants, nibbled relentlessly, Until the cube stands bare like a tasteless sweet Money is an exquisite gallery, Decorated with alluring images, Each art is a masterpiece, a cradled pearl Until its beauty is gently woven into antiquity Here, a poor man is a barren wasteland, A radiant visage marred by the harsh hand of fate His path is kissed by the benedictions of vengeful gods And blessings, woven with graceful thorns But a rich man, like a crowned monarch, Gleams with the resplendence of a thousand suns, And his fortune cascading like a waterfall of gold Enchanting all who bask in its radiant glow Money, a fleeting mirage, a shimmering illusion Dances happily like a wisp of smoke, Yet wealth, a benevolent angel, Humbles like a timeless cloak Do not run after money like a fool chases the wind, While his breath labours and his strength wanes, Then returns home with a bundle of emptiness, Like a traveller who carries shadows in a bottomless sack