A MINUTE MORE BEAUTY

The half-night service was awesome and the song ministration from her had kept people on their knees. The chorus leader, a very beautiful and attractive God-fearing lady slept late that night. This is the story of this sister who slept and woke up in a foreign land. She looked around and nothing being familiar, she began wondering how she got to be there.

Looking around, she realized a large city with a beautiful small door. Walking to the room, she saw a man in immaculate white robe. That must be an angel, she said in her heart. Mr. Angel, am a stranger knowing not what is going on. The last thing I remember is I slept last night. “This is a body laid down and spirit taken to get a crown. You might have heard of heaven where you came from. Only those whose names are found written in this book of life shall forever rest in paradise” the angel said.

Flipping through the pages in search of her name, she came across names of saints, prophets and friends who kept the faith and won their race. She said, Mr. Angel, where is my name? I am Becky, the chorus leader. I pay my tithes and worship God. I sing and with my melodious voice, attract people to church. I give arms and everybody knows me. Even at work, I lead in devotion. Please tell me, what is going wrong?

Unforgiveness lurks within your heart, so full that you cannot let go. Little faults and secret sins, pride and over confidence that thy works shall save thee. Such and more will bring surprises on the final day. Let he who thinks he stands take heed lest he falls. Only the pure in heart will see Jesus. Those whose garments glow with purity. The Angel continued, “If only thy beauty can last a minute more, you will find your name on the final day.

How beautiful upon the mountain are the feet of them that bringeth good tidings, that pulisheth peace; that publisheth salvation. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.

Inspired by Nathaniel Bassey

CHOICE I didn't make

It is said With no meaning absurd The toad is the best To tell the real feel of water And not by a finger test. We hear the quotation, Your life is in your own hand My infidel interpretation Is, can life be fetched like sand? Some are born of spirits Others by woman Many as offsprings Only one by a virgin I fell in the peasant's farmhouse To a woman who never wore blouse Had friends whose hair birthed lice And siblings who survived on lies Those on the other side Thought a river was like poolside And had TV to view "by the fireside" To them, life began at twenty While mine was waiting till forty. Weeding, pruning and thinning out Consoling myself that time won't run out Producing the golden tree That the lucky kid calls chocolate. Since age three I knew I was getting late But whose choice is it Being unworthy or dear To be born with silver wear Or be birthed a misfit Had we, those in my shoe We the unlucky ones Without any choice, not once Come across...

DUTIFUL or BUTIFUL

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