None

By

George O. Obikoya

They land in the wee of night; none is asleep

It’s so tense flashes twirl its bareness in grief

Few plead with rage; as with none left, spirits

Wait to meet that earth rests at last in peace

Sodden crypts of solitude, yet in kinder bliss

At sea; calm grace signals to none but rest

With tiny gain to roost in bosoms of the sick

Spirits bear pain in vaults for peace to reign

They sink to vanity skies eyes too raw to see

Times of need when not even bounties relief;

A place to hide even if in pits of toil and pain

Why in endless retreat softly, souls must live

Yet, so must transcendence in material robes

Pine in languor so none is too blind to know

The spiritual grace of the immanence of faith

In timeless crypts of shame with no reprieve

They joust in airless sachet; none truly cares

Pitiable souls expose; so, they count for none

Noble; its sublime glory sure not exposed; in

Hearts; darkened with hubris borne of shame

Barns of beauty stacks becloud sinuous souls

That as one ploughs the land in rigour shells

None to give for bile peppered with tear; cry

Ever; it coats not forlorn hearts that so ache

But what does a tender soul of the trusty do?

Who with none still in faith hopes someday;

One lovely, sunshiny; that is not so far away

All will be well for souls that pine in our day

So, rest; sleep: life will smile again someday

None will be left to cry again; to wait to pay

For gains of luckless souls trampled survive

To wipe away sweat rings laden so in aches

Beneath the façade that sullies a gentle face

Kindred hearts struggle to recover their ways

To where their souls lead; compassion frays

Not one inflexible it shatters the pious pane

So, none spares the communion they share

Of perfect polish that trust and hope so craft

As life bares its scaffoldings of spoil for prey 

With all mystified whence come tainted souls

With luck unrestrained life seems sublime

Tarnished not even to know its all for now

That reminds the souls deprived time ticks;

And will soon herald for them a better day

In the dark alleys strewn on earthly lanes

Where toil seeds in rustic bacchanal ways

Condemned to an eternity of primal wrath

Beauty springs away; past tellurian shores

So, it does in squalid planes that none sees

Worthy to call for a night of frenzied craze

Yet, that nurture stars adored far and wide

Not least in hearts averse to no more pain

In its simple quixotic ways: it stays so exact

As pain invests in toil; which only is its bliss

Must be ever fresh for none to now expend

For all in sacred rebirth to truly end the ache

Thus the night grinds on; nothing still sways

The void of existence stares blatantly again

Crypts of endless toil leave none so feeble

But only for ruse and distrust to now prevail

Not even the stoic ever so poor yet sound

Seems ready for some of the scary games

Life plays on tired souls with apostolic zeal

Yet, goads none down fated pongy paths

That no more tells none of its scornful ways

So, life tethered as ever; none, silly sways

In joyous turnarounds as still it must gain

Yet, fools even noblest souls to trust again

With none left to purge in the stymied voids

That gulps in creepy bowels saints and all

And with canonist fervour imposes the truth

None dares ever defy even in fake mimicry

Yet, on a night that many ancient souls cry

And none seems too far to hear their pain

As barrenness creates bridgeless chasms

Life seems set to provide its sacred affray

War drums growl within bowels of the night

Angels serenade balmy, atmospheric tunes

Souls stomp in a celestial march to eternity

And to rouse a jejune world; it’s time to play

None it seems is set to take toil’s divine bait  

To rebuff some truth forced but not gained

Soaked in the feral games that hubris plays

Ready now for mystic wars on stirred souls

In turmoil hope often prevails to pray for all

That none saves the day must be so mislaid

As nothing stays the same in its fluid recess

Life gropes; with a renewal none can change

For now life ever satiates our troubled souls

With gusto to sway; to live on again in peace

Its resolve to tackle at last life’s pitiless pain

And be free for good from a vile, wary angst

In the dark gleam the swords of defiant souls

The allure of choice much too strong to shun

So, none must now free of pain ever retreat

To strive for freedom their souls so deserve

The past of relentless misery stalks at night

To steal spirits now filled with resolve to gain;

And through echoes from a boundless abyss

Who stirs all; their voices in clear astral deal

At last all seem set for an imminent redress

Of ageless lives caged so in colossal crypts

Where none strives even if in cautious vows

As certainty fleets in a sublime game of life

Let not priceless loving sweat so fritter away

Tarry not to wrest pain from the tyrants’ grips

The angst on which none rests is now secure

Yet, back to haunt the tired souls set to gain

As it rains on liberty planes pain must recoil

And drown none to come ever rather too late

For a midnight date with willing, ready spirits

Of transcendence that none should ever miss

It is thus for us now to toil even harder to gain

The battle to win; not self over self ever again

Of the many troubles we today still must face

To rest assured certainty rules is past our fate

But, as we arise free to start a kind new day

And our sorrows have slipped very far away

Into the depths of the abyss of endless dread

It must feel great to be free at last; evermore.