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‘To everyone there is a time,
To every man, there is a season’
So goes the saying of The Teacher
But when does a man’s time come?
In his youth?
In his grey days?
For we toil day and night
Hoping for that time,
Yea, we sow here and there,
Hoping for our season to come.
But sometimes,
The clock stops ticking
Before the time comes,
Or maybe the man’s time has come
But he knew it not.
Sometimes…
There is no rain on our seeds,
Hence the tireless wait for the season
So we hope and pray,
We trust in God
And hope He hears us
And comes to our rescue…
Before life’s billows swallows us,
And the soul’s tempest overwhelms us…

(c) Chukwudi I.