VICTOR-PIUS IMUE source: http://www.photographyblog.com
The tide came rolling with the wind,
He sat and shivered, like a lamb fresh skinned,
Staring into the distant skies,
With weary, weakened, worn-out eyes.
A mortal pain did fill his soul,
A wound that nothing could make whole
A pitch-black darkness did expand
Like an eclipse o’er his heart’s land.
He looked o’er the horizon,
Gazing at years gone by,
And vain regret within him yet
Swelled up into a sigh.
He mourned for seconds wasted,
For minutes left to rust,
For hours spent in haste, and
Time’s dust, returned to dust.
For the ashes of an old life
Burnt slowly by delay,
Like the beauty of an old wife
Declining, day by day.
They said he had potential,
That Heaven was the bar,
With just a little effort,
He would become a star.
For he indeed was gifted
With great ability,
For every sphere, he had such flair,
Yea, such affinity.
But Old Procrastination
She was his dearest friend,
Her sister, Hesitation,
Did also to him tend.
Why work now? Tis such sorrow!
They would ask everyday;
Leave business till tomorrow;
They oft to him did say.
They, like petty thieves, pilfered
Little bits of his time,
Their trusty tools in crime.
They stole Seconds and Minutes,
Hours, Days, Weeks, Months and Years,
Till there, his life near finished,
He sat in tired tears.
Great treasures left unopened,
Grand paths still left untrod,
Many words left unspoken,
Many fields left unplod.
Great heights left unsurmounted
For fear of falling down
By packs of fear still hounded
Far from his future crown
Lost in the woods called Average,
He spent his days, lost in the maze
Of the Ordinary.
Till there he sat still, thinking,
Of things that might have been,
The life within him shrinking,
His breath yet growing thin…
The wind went, rolling out the tide,
And as it left, the Old Man cried:
“Procrastination is a grievous crime,
Pursue your purpose: waste no time!”
Victor-Pius Imue: Singer, Writer, Student, Teacher. And Lawyer – well, almost. In the Pursuit of Life and purpose.