As the saying goes; success…
Your might and fruit make even the weak heed,
The sweet on your tree,
And rush unabashedly to begat thee,
Crave to claim kinship.
Hearts fine-tune jumps, to your rhythm,
Multitudes crowd your elegant home,
All grappling that you hail from them,
Many play-act your smile, and gesture,
Paint their face in semblance, of your flawless complexion,
Deceiving their own soul, to be seen your father,
Lucky-you,
Whatsoever!
But, failure?
The “orphan” and lone dancer,
No soul seems to begat you –and never,
Who’d get the gut to cope your odor?
You knock, but most slam their doors,
But, stain not your face in tears,
You’re not unknown—wide is your prominence,
Among the sagacious that desires to prance,
Your victim begat you in the end,
As your lessons create the mastermind,
Sitting in the shed of the tree learned the lessons,
At the seventh crawl the vast tenet
From the tiny soul that makes it
to the fruit.
BY WORKU BELACHEW
THE ETHIOPIAN HERALD WEDNESDAY 17 JANUARY 2024
