Come let me tell you your doom...
Now that you parade
The savannah and high forests,
Moving freely and feeding on others
Both the weak and the strong you scared
Under your thunderous voice,
They bow with their flags
You carry so much power that even the silence obeys.
Hmm... Heraclitus.
'Life is in a state of continuous flux'
Let me tell you your doom.
One day,
You will go out never to return,
You will speak and not be heard.
Power will betray you by shifting its camp
You will wish and beggers will not ride
This will be your doom,
In your six feet mansion
Or in a ceramic jar on the shelve.
Babalola Augustine Adeola
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/preacher-boy/
