Bullet or bullion:
police and politicians,
neither is better.

He cannot lie,
neither can he die;
For he's not a man.

Abandoned, deserted and forsaken to whine.
In privation was he left lonely to pine.
His friends like a bird fled to another tree,
Leaving him to rot away in Dundee.

His soul was parched, pained and weary,
Longing him to be refreshed speedily.
His heart was sad, bitter and lorn,
Praying him this even to morn would turn.

And the laden lad afterward to London went.
By labour and favour did he an apartment rent
And began in earnest his early dreams to pursue,
Having himself picked up, as a man ought to do--
After a certain disappointment or fall in life--
Chasing no fantasy, frivolities, but working to rule;
Neither was he as afore again playing the pool
But was saving straight, and soon he success struck,
By heaven's fortune that to him came--nay by luck:
Like it's no fluke finding a goodly and godly wife--
It was by grace that he was wherefore blessed.
So his old chummy comrades to him returned to nest:
To wine and dine with him more like before. But he,
Once bitten, twice shy, was wise enough to repeat folly.

Born a boy; now a giant of men.
A son of Omu-Aran becoming the
Bishop of the world, who's nurtured
And taught by his mom and granny.

His benign brook belittled yesterday
Has turned to a blessed flowing sea;
His molehill's become as Mt. Everest
Before the eyes of many an enemy.

At sixteen, his life whole he gladly gave
To Jesus the Saviour in college indeed,
And to sin and Satan no more a slave,
But God's son, by God's grace redeemed.

Bishop, the Lord called to ascendancy,
By his favour and mercy, from grass.
To make his humble name legendary,
Heaven did set him apart for the race.

David the bishop, like David the king,
Is truly "a man after God's own heart":
Of his goodness and love does he sing;
His passion he has from the very start.

The kingdom of God and his service
Is bishop's daily breath and bread,
As well as giving his Creator praise;
And in all things he is always elated.

A blessed life is not in number told,
But by deeds that outlast the present.
All men were born, yet few do die
Great; for most live for the moment.

A life of platinum impact like Papa's,
Will forever like the sun in the sky
Be shinning, and hell and darkness
Can't obscure its light and glory high.


©️2024 by Folorunsho Obalugemo

Yours isn't the burden biggest
to have the soul saddest.

Bullet or bullion:
police and politicians, neither
is better.

He cannot lie,
neither can he die.
For he's not a man.