Life is like an elevator.
Sometimes, we soar upwards to undreamed of heady heights.
While at other distinctly cheerless moments, we plunge downwards to plumb unenviable, new depths of sorrow, misfortune and woe.
So have no fear when you are inhabiting the valleys of your life's journey.
For sooner rather than later, you will be able to mend your severed wings and boldly take flight again with supreme self-assuredness.

The End

In my darkest despair, you were the lone lamp of hope.
At the peak of my greatest triumphs, you were the one whom I most wanted to be proud of me.
Mere words cannot accurately describe just how much you have infinitely blessed my life since the genesis of my journey on this earth.
At various twists and turns, you have been my mentor, inspiration, close confidante, accomplice and steadfast defender among other numberless hats which you have donned through the years.
So, on this most auspicious and special of days for all mothers everywhere here’s toasting a ‘Happy Mother’s Day’, to you dearest mom.

The End.

And over time,
My pen stopped bleeding
But my heart didn't

The year was 1820.
The place: a sugar plantation field in Birmingham, Alabama.
One day on the said plantation field in 1820, an African slave, Kwame, all of a sudden decided that he had had enough.
He was through with addressing the white owner of the plantation field as ‘Master’.


He was done with tip-toeing around the white master’s children so reverentially as if they were demi-gods.
‘Demi-gods’! Why, they were more like spoiled little brats with truly despicable behavior.
Kwame had had it up to here with all of it.
So, on one Saturday afternoon, Kwame, upped and made a bold dash for freedom.
As he tried to run away with his heart pounding heavily in his chest, he heard the tell-tale sounds of horses’ hooves kicking up dust as the white master and his henchmen vigorously pursued him on horse-back.
Despite hearing the yells from the white master and his men calling on him to stop, on Kwame ran throwing caution to the winds.


But in the end something did stop Kwame.
Two gun-shots to his back and two others to his neck eventually felled him fatally.
The place: a sugar plantation field in Birmingham, Alabama.
The year: 1820.
The year when the courageous attempt of an African slave, Kwame, to find freedom tragically cost him his life.

The End.

Pray, what oracle can accurately divine the marvels which await humankind in the age to come?
Will we step into cars that soar to lofty heights?
Will we grow accustomed to robots putting in long shifts as workers on the factory floor or as nurses tending to the needs of the afflicted in our hospitals?


And, will the age to come present humanity with the first-ever ‘designer baby’ by virtue of the miracle or curse of gene-editing, which many have likened to man playing God?
So, so many questions to which no conclusive answers have yet to be formed.
As we stand, then, on the very cusp of an unimaginably unprecedented, new age, let us endeavor to tread warily and cautiously lest we lose our footing.

The End

They told him he wouldn't make it.
And yet, he pressed on determinedly and resolutely regardless.
They told him so heartlessly countless times that his long nursed dreams would fail to come true.
Despite that, he kept striding forward at times even with a tell-tale swagger in his step.
And then, one day despite all of the evil chatter, he finally achieved the at times elusive goal of success.
You may wonder who I'm speaking of.
I could be speaking of a whole lot of people.
I could be speaking of you.
I could also be speaking of me.

The End.

In my deepest despair, please be the voice of hope.
During the harshest and severest storms, please be my anchor upon whom I can lean.
And when I’m enveloped in all-consuming darkness and I can feel my last shreds of hope fading away, please be the light that shines so dazzlingly brightly it illuminates the way forward.

The End