Sunset Thoughts

The Word by F’ Pre’cieuse

In the beginning stood the word
The word was born of an empty world.
The world of heavy laden sins of his people
Rested on the shoulder of a loving father.

A crafty man crafted from the dust of the earth
By a skilled maker of all things
A God of wonder spoke life into a lifeless being of dust
Breathe life into an empty being

Every word laid with power
With trembling lips by the people
Man an immanent being
Wallow in the ocean of carelessness
Subjected to an undue due belief.

Designer Suture by Fatunbi Boluwatife

“Crossed heart in love”
Written boldly
Double-edged by suture
Proper union intended for everlasting

The world thought it was wrong
To cause pain and call it love
Trauma scenario they thought
But it was a life saving surgery
One with stable vital signs.

“Heart transplant successful”
Cheered the bridegroom
He gave the consent
In the theater room
The suture marked an emblem
Of the procedure crafted out of love
A design to remember
For life Eternal

The Call by Adams Saba

Different voices in the crowd.
Noises hindering one to hear.
Which sound would the ear pick.
Talking one out of the public.

The spoken, waking one from sleep.
Human harkening to the call.
Mandate given by the light.
Life by which men survive.

Precious was the word in those days.
The truth detested nowadays.
Open vision yet no conviction.
The word is calling the world.
Who in it is answering the call?
Within them, fear of the unseen.
And the word became flesh.
He is not abstract, He is seen.

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