SAVIOURS OF SAVOUR

I behold the earth
A boiling pot cooking a bland meal.
But why would a tasteless meal be 
Slyly served as sweet sauce?
I behold the earth
A feast turned dirge because happiness faded
Leaving its audience bereft of joy.

But for how long shall we adorn our heads
with turbans of ashes?

Let the saviours of savour arise!
To raise Rabboni’s righteous rod
And shred this pot of gloom,
The servers and their portions
Till the tables that breed stale bread be overturned.

Awake! Let our flavour be as magnet
Drawing men unto Christ
To eat of His flesh and drink of eternal life
To never ending satisfaction
Awake! saviours of savour,
It’s time to season the earth!

Ayooluwa Olasupo
(Ìmísí)

(c) 2021

An awful conclusion

To falter is an option to be ignored right there when spurred.

But leaves an ‘I don’t care nod‘ instead of a step.

Air has made the balloon fatter while past failures still lurks around.

Know that purpose is a deep water.

Understanding will lure the fountain within not you standing so sure you have a brain to count on, with conscious efforts of kneeling be ready to birth a mountain.

“Where was that brain of yours when comfort zone stole time and left you pained?”

“Where was your brain when the added weight kept altering every step you took to catch up with the train?”

“Where was your brain when the candle within was quenched and you were drained?”

An awful conclusion it is, one propelled by absence of Divination.

The altar needs fire not water. Farther will age read unless a retreat is called.

The altar needs consistency not a ‘once in a blue moon visitor.’

The altar needs to be mobile not cold because the author won’t speak until visiting becomes hourly even though tagged odd

The altar will draw so much and won’t tire when on fire!

– Ebubechi
(c) 2021