MIRAGE OF GLORY

Like a wraith it appeared and disappeared in a splash.

A spectre of glory unleashed, withdrawn like a bash

Of fistful force unrestrained and let loosed like trash.

An image of illusionary grandeur with apparition,

It came into sight and vanished like a phantasm.

Phantasmagorically, in sequence it appeared to disappear.

We waited and slumbered, so weak and weary a condition.

We waited in great anticipation of a moment long gone.

Gone like the good old day; we felt undone.

The Holy Book speaks of the latter glory

Being greater than the former. Struggle of gory

With all the blood wasted calling for vengeance.

With so much force we seek for peace in trance.

On the cause of this we seek for the appearance

Of what the latter glory will bring with it in its ambience.

With tears we planted with hope of joyful harvest.

With lachrymosity, morose untethered abreast,

We toiled and laboured not for personal gains, but

We exert ourselves for the glory that lies ahead in the west.

Working our fingers to the bone not to outwit, but

We moiled, paddling in mud, just to standout among the best.

We, like Trojan, worked hard, pulling and prodding under;

We, seeking for something to go beyond the yonder;

When weariness beckons, doggedly with sweat in the heat

We find energy in hope that metamorphosed into zeal.

When failure beckons, with hope of success so real

We thought of the glory ahead and fail to fail with a beam.

We lost love in lust, and find lust in love, all in the dream.

If we knew our glory will be lost in trance, we could

Have forever abided in stupor. Dreaming would

Have been better than living. At least the glory would

Have been realisable. But the reverie could

Not outlast the reality. We awoke to the crude,

Unrefined, barbaric coldness of verisimilitude.

Hundreds of brothers and sisters from the hood

Toiled with us for this optical illusion. As we stood

It’s obvious the glory we seek was a mirage yet so true.