By Tikum Mbah Azonga
Now I know
Which way the clock swings
Hung as it is on the edge of time and snow
It pushes man to sing in search of God’s glory.
Here in the hemicycle where we are just actors
Like Shakespeare in the Sacred Heart College auditorium
Too often we take ourselves for little gods
And turn our juniors into slave fly factors
Oblivious that he only in all wisdom, wields the rods.
When the day of reckoning comes
And we are found wanting for treason
Our mighty guilt shall be measured in tonnes
And never again shall the good Lord give us reason.
Then we shall all perish in hell fever with no recourse.
But do we know that?