One of my thoughts…
In the year of the great tumour suffered by the Living beings on the Sphere, the season of ragged harvest was the graceful abundance given by the gods. In the same season was my pen found in the Center of the Four Cardinals filled with Dirt and Dust; an indication of its last use.
The Insurgency in the East, the Derailing West, the Lost Morals of the North and the wastefulness of the South were the imprint of my Ink.
But at mid-point, my pen ceased. A trait caused by the Unseen forces of the four Cardinals. This has been my greatest fear from time immemorial.
The Abundance of the river graced me wholly and heavy rains fell from my eyes. I was stuck in the rusty seat I was subjected to by the Generals.
In my Euphoria while trying to Decipher my Enigma, a Novel thought came into my ever working mind:
‘If you have a ceasing pen that won’t make you write why don’t you get a Pencil?’
ADEYEMI PETER OLAOLUWA