THE CYCLE

It is shackles on his ankles,

his thoughts are tied to it.

He walks like a zombie on the streets,

his thoughts are troubled by it.

 

His hands are callused for it

His clothes are in tatters for it

His breath stinks for it

His skin cracks for it.

He indeed slaves for it

 

But when he finds it

He would sing alleluia

He would dance for it

He would make it slave for him.

 

He would make it

even his cracked skin,

freshen his stinking breath,

replace his tattered clothes,

smoothen his callused hand,

it would indeed slave for him.

 

Then it would be gone

in a tinkle of an eye

and he would again start

with shackles on his ankles

walking like a zombie

slaving for it.

 

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4 thoughts on “THE CYCLE

  1. He is addicted to the short burst of pleasure, a moment of happiness that result of his anguish buys him. Even those that labor so little and earn so much of it still want more and more, that they would almost do anything to acquire it. I hope he reaches a state of contentment and realization that it cannot buy joy.

    • Yes life is a rat race. money comes money goes. Those that labour so little and earn so much of it still want more and more as you said. Which is why we need to run the race of life without letting the race become our life, lest we run in cycles.

  2. I admire the way you masked the object of this man’s desire, inviting the reader to look closely and try to figure out what it is. Of course, the first thing that came to my mind was money. As good as it is, man can also be enslaved by it.

    Brilliantly penned, Fikayo.

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