Known Unknown

We Who serve Lost and confused, astray and missing. We who are down below, the proletarians we are.  Lost with the wind like the ripped half of a tailless kite, We sway and travel to the tandem of the turbulence in the storm. We think we float and yet we tumble and struggle to keep acouse. When we finally drop to the ground like a bird dead mid flight, The realization hits us and our eyes actually open.

Èlàlònà From the pit of enmity, the friends we hope to last with. They jump out and take to their heels. The constant consciousness in effort to marry the facts that son of Lágbájá Is gone, no longer on our side in the battle of life.