You Wrote My Story

My first cry could’ve won a Grammy

If mum has taken her massive tummy

To a recording studio

Where sophisticated gadgets would’ve captured

with great pleasure,

My first live performance

For posterity’s consumption.


It would’ve been a one-hit-wonder

By a-day-old singer

Who felt mistreated and went yonder,

Away from the scars

Her fragile being couldn’t endure

From greedy opportunists who’d have ensured

She lived for their sole pleasure.


But blessed are you o God!

Who drew a safe plot for my habitation,

Subduing wicked men’s intentions.

Long before the knowledge of books,

Before writers and creativity met,

Your pen kissed the earth,

Charting my course in the sands of time.


This intellectual piece with sequels

Began even before my conception;

For heaven with great patience,

Arranged the flow of its creative stream,

that in due season,

It would publish

One of life’s most exciting stories.


From a very simple me,

you wrote a creative non-fiction

And arrested men’s attention

Till their eyes got acquainted with greatness.

In worship, they bow to your literary prowess.

Indeed Yahweh,

Creativity springs from your bowels.

I breathe in music, and exhale words tastefully woven for your soul's pleasure. When high on sarcasm, I could smash your ribs into fine pieces. But whether on a stage, singing out my heart, on in Solitude, scribbling out mysteries, my greatest aim is to bless humanity with the essence of my being.


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