When music forgets its bedding is poetry
And clay pots forget they come from the earth
When wool forgets it comes from trees
And houses forget they stand on earth
When characters forget they come from a script
And clouds forget they hang in the air
The sky, the earth, books, trees and scripts
…will still be what they’re
Ladders without which flaunters
…could never be seen

So dance to enhanced rhythms
…and be bored at the sound of naked words
Drink from clay pots
…and detest the sight of wet clay
Buy expensive cotton wool
…and cut down their trees calling them nuisances
Live in houses and court disdain for the earth
Bask in the clicks on the stages of fame
…ignoring scripts which built your characters
Pray the sound of need never finds you
For that run to the source might make you see
The importance of that which was and now isn’t
…the importance of that which is but act couldn’t
…the importance of that which works but screams “don’t”
When it happens,
…regret will never bail your deeds of the past
…from the prison of pity
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 1, 2021

By amoafowaa

Just a simple Ghanaian trying to find the best in our society. I may be fun, I may be interesting, I may be funny, I may even be foolish or intelligent, but it is all based on the mood in which you find yourself. I believe our minds make us who we are. Know that, pain, no matter its 'unbearability', is transient. Unburden or delight yourself for a while in my writings please. And all corrections, advice and opinions are welcome. Know that you are the king, queen or royal on this blog. :)

2 replies on “THE PRISON OF PITY”

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