The stained wind of History,
Repeats itself ….
On the new eve of a fresh season,
Ripe fruits turn sour,
And the tired leaves from the ageing tree
yearns for a warmth with reason and direction,
It is not yet harmattan,
Yet the wind is choked and cold,
Who knows what lies within the beauty of hungry hearts.
I have picked the stains from the ancient wind,
And placed it in an old space filled with raw energy,
Make hay before a new storm- FOR LIFE IS A BEAUTIFUL ALBUM
Tony Tokunbo Eteka Fernandez