The "Matriculator" feast in my village - Bin Zak

The "Matriculator" feast in my village


Poet;Bin Zak


The wind of self adoration
Whistles a strong siren,
That gloats over my heart.
I dance and sing and cycle towards the sky with a sweet song of breezes,
In salutation to the wind's instruction.
Joyously, a voice whispers to my ears,
On my way to the narrow Easter mountain,

"Stop  fooling yourself around and think_

Let me not be too harsh nor soft.
Truly, Today is merry
For your  staunchness against the profound storm when it was brewing,
Yet its delicacy worth not, Cos its aromatic odour,
Which you and some have suffered greatly to passive .
You overcame, why some are overcome"

After a thought, the listened murmuring verse harrows my blood.
Its gravity clasps the joyous fortress in me.
I gaze and gaze in wonder until my lips whisper;
       
Why today's merriment is an aromatic odour?
do l and my fellows suffer so greatly?


"Feeble minds! Raise your eyes
A year is gone with the storm
A few perish with the storm
The storm is not yet inactive
Strike fairly to strike the stormy activities,
Then you and the future shall be rescued from drowning."



Alas! I have betrayed my senses.


 Sirrah!
Let honour today has the beginning of stormy end on our premises.
The end of an established tyranny.
The death of misconception,
A final nail to the storm on our land.
To safe our futures from inheriting stormy land.
And our heroism shall roar in ages' mouth.
As they enjoy the tranquil land.