...desires are devils we carry on our head
they're called dreams by our tongue
are we not in shackles?
for life is poetry
where design of nature and each breath
sets off the fire of glee in our soul
and the lessons written on the stairs of time prepare us for the world beyond
but the devils on our head has stolen it
slowly fading from the misery of chasing the sun
& then I realised we are all wind chasers
sweating to make our sky golden
& sleep in a room like the halls of heaven
but where will they be when our eyes close in death?
Everytime I escape the ditch in time
I feel dreams are curses
to keep toiling, searching for life
when life is no where except within
why chasing shadows?
where will they be when our eyes close in death?
the hands of a man can give without taking back?
Painted desires
in the cloth of dreams.
You're still breathing.
© Oluwatobiloba
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