Even Souls Can Dance

Gbogbo rẹ bẹrẹ pẹlu ileke kekere kan...

There is a thrill to the marble dewdrops of its gaze,

Whispering souls dancing in circles, chanting to their psyche.

To the owos, it is their insignia to the realm of the spirit.

To the oba that chewed my kola to make his crown, an emblem to his coral's kiss.

To the lady I pledged my love to, an adornment to her whirling waist.

There is a peculiar fixation to the tinkling of the Phoenix tears.

The wildflower blooms to the chaotic jangling of the spirits,

Who wrapped themselves around my father's wrist.

He didn't get to breathe before he joined the dance,

His soul in the melodious chaos, embraced by the afterlife.

The ethereal plane that conjures a nexus sparks the awakening of a new being.

A priestess chants in prayers, and the whiteness of her eyes tells you she's no longer there.

She sees a flash of the present, stringed by a moment—memory, rhythm.

A divine emissary from the great beyond emerges to become one.

And now, I have become life: the upholder of two worlds.

Ola Femi