So I set out amidst the gale
And staggered as thus I drank ale,
And the rains came down with strong hail
Thus my countenance became pale.
I had nearly lost my Guidebook
For the sun hid; her rays it took;
Therefore I strained my eyes to look
As I searched for it every nook,
Along the path, I saw some men
For most, their journey they did pen,
So I asked of the path of the den
And how to cross over the ben;
For indeed the way is but straight
A lot of things I’ll have to bate,
With faith, surely I’ll reach my fate
And with joy I will celebrate.
‘For the King awaits me’ they said
‘For my sake, He came and He paid
A debt so much on Him was laid’
Thus were the words the men said
So with joy and hope I set out
With a resolve not to e’er doubt,
For I will have reasons to pout
And people may at my quest, flout
But woe betide me if I slack
For indeed I have my own track
And it seems I may not have jack
But I hear, ‘there’s nothing you lack
Even in the hill or valley
Even with sadness or merry,
Or when I eat bile or cherry
With faith, You will reach There surely.’
So I held held onto what I heard
And held in me, the Words with guard,
For they are pleasant like fine nard
And smooth oil when the road is hard,
This be my own Pilgrim’s Progress
And though it seems I have regrets;
It will be a Pilgrim’s Regress
And will lead me to hate and pains,
Ahead of me I saw the place
With joy and with love, it was laced;
I was told I’ll see face to face
The King who for me, made this place…


© Chukwudi Isaac

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