This black history month, I will leave you with a poem in the dying hours of October’s last breath. This is a reminder that as a race not just one particular colour, we should aim to make something good of our lives for the betterment of ourselves and others. Let us put aside the hate and hurt that so often divides us.
Time Is Waste
If you know what courage is.
The man who is not strength,
Is the man with muscles galore.
Prove you know if you know.
Season of a star, firmament above
Season of a man, earth below
Time is waste- glorious flame quenched
And ravish man-flesh into dust.
Victors poise time on their side
Making inspiration a goal, building positives.
The victors are bricks- monuments remembered.
Their voices echo eternity-heroes immortalised.
