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Years rolled by – Awe Jesujoba Isaac

So count my years
and hang them on shelves,
pick up all my tears
and place them on the desk
title them as pain and regrets,
mistakes and failure rebirth.

Too many thoughts in this space
but these are words I can’t say,
these expressions I can’t feign
else I set my mind on fiery flames,
or get my heart twisted in patterns
like an old Rubik’s Cube.

But the truth is,
silence isn’t empty, my dear,
it is full of answers,
do you dare to find out?
why do you feel lost
when I’ve been blind all the while?

So here I stand alone,
in the midst of lonely demons
deserving a blind metaphor;
high stakes for a penny of misfortune,
I don’t know where metaphor ends
and reality begins.

Alone is not a word,
alone is a world;
it’s a world of decision and precision—
empty, that’s how I feel,
void, that’s my state,
out of these lost curses I’m borne, alone?

Brilliance beats beauty
and even clusters of diamonds
so, enough of less intelligence
with a unique skill, mundane savant,
enough of shatters and shambles
hoping for a golden silver lining.

Unshakable, you thought?
here I am, see crevices of doubt;
clothed in designer fig leaves are
fear and death; fame and wealth
suited in olde worlde Dolce and Gabbana rags—
a fear so fierce it ended in stark failure.

Who would carry these for me?
just a moment; a moment,
to savour a piece of my lost peace,
taste what it feels like to bite a dead tree
and watch it turn cold like a fleece in the dew;
suffer, die and rot to live again.

With a charcoal inscription
is written on this vision,
“strength, like an eagle,
abundance like the length of a stream.”
this positive feeling,
I hope this soul doesn’t spill it.

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