πΆπΎ, my hands you asked for . I let them fly in the air , rejoicing finally! I have been noticed and now I have one to talk to , A friend .
Days come on us , weeks we trend together , years we both made . Now you know my commandment, my cross which lies between my heart .
I'm going home , where this road takes me I already know , the passion of Christ , trynna get to the world of it . The entrance is death β .
I send a message to the heavens , only the Prince of Persia holds my request , the message is delivered on thee . He tells me , It more
Than what I can ever receive , or imagine to happen , why is this I ask ΒΏπΆπΎ
He says , the water in the air is only a pretence for me not to see the danger, fire , trouble at hand .
Being confused enough , I look into the air the water is flowing through gently , faces are smooth , the atmosphere taking a change in every aspect .
After my observations , I return a message to thee . I tell him , i don't see any picture in the message given to me , all I see is the reality of the otherside of the ocean , and water is good .
Sigh! He says , all is dark to the blind , all is good to the rich , all is either of the both sides to the poor, the all is seen to the filled ones .
When the times comes , the blind Shall see , the rich shall work , the poor shall live , and the filled ones which rule .
Only then will you know the water isn't safe no more .
The message β
By Ademide OgunkolaπΆπΎ