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পোস্ট বার দেখা হয়েছে
THE ATLAS OF PEACE
AARON BLACKIE
( NIGERIA)
When we are minded
To know in our hearts,
That the strengthened issues
Palpitating our collective being,
In there lies,
The hidden bombshells
That could alter life’s fountain
Flow forever...
We then must thread the course Mindfully!
When we are minded
To know, the unwavery paths of Quietude, that make the stormy waves Of life, firmly rooted and
Daring to be contained onward
Are as varied as the vases,
Made for the variegated flowers
In the fields of our horticulture,
We then must mark our flowery
Boundaries carefully!
When we are minded
To know, that the tentacles of life
Stretched to the domain
Of the macro,
Only when the micro
Is synchronized into the whole,
For our sundry togetherness...
We then must seek the inputs of all
Open-heartedly
When we are minded
To know, that the rigid yesterday
Should be made flexible,
For the elasticity of today,
Paving the way
For the bound-to-be-expanded Tomorrow...
History then must be relied on
Large-heartedly!
When we are minded
To know, that the fingers of the
Curious hearts,
Are bound to be stretched
Often by mysterious passions—
That inquisitive drives in man,
Venturing into the other side,
Of the unknown...
The gates of progress then must be
Accessed discreetly and watchfully
When we are minded
To know, that
Beauty and colours,
Inherent in indigenous human
Cultures and heritages,
Are permeable to all
For our onward adaptation,
We then must encode and decode all
For the future embraced,
Wisely!
When we are minded to know,
That some colours are not meant
To be blended into a compound
Colour... But on their
Individual uniqueness, they stand
To stay side by side among
Others in the atlas
Of colourful formations,
Then we should take heed not to
Blend the near impossible,
Forcibly!
Then peace stretch her hands wisely
And discreetly
For our ever mixing multiple colours,...
Oh, sons and daughters of men!
The atlas of our mutually inclusive Wholeness,
In the gallery of carefully synchronized Harmony...
Let her stretches her tentacles
Beyond the stenches of the debacles,
Crawling along the streets of our
Ceaseless miseries,
Like the sneaky chameleons in
The forest of wildlife...
Oh, that rocky fallow grounds
Of broken Peace!
The obduracy calcified on our Unyielding grounds,
Like the iceberg
Forever floating above the floor
Of the undulating ocean waters!
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