HOUSE OF DISCONTENT

By Bamidele Salako

I have always lived here, it now seems
In this house of discontent
Prisoner of the pains of many failed expectations
Traduced by familiar foes whose venomous tongues forged my bonds

I have always been of a broken heart
Dreams of countless years hang in hopeless sway
The man yonder lives my dream life
Content not to show me the way

I have always wandered
Searching with spirit and soul for home
A place I can call my own
But still here I lie in the doldrums of dying dreams

I have always been lonely
Compelled to conjure illusory worlds of momentary bliss
An ephemeral utopia in the mind craving permanence
Memories pregnant with fleeting havens of temporal reprieve

I have always longed for one I can call my own
An angel of compassion and love whose very heart feels my pain
The one to whom my plight sings a familiar tune
Someone whose heart reaches out to mine

I have always led a borrowed life
A pauper paraded in Princes’ apparel
Torn apart by the deep despair of discontent
Saying to you in unuttered words, “I am not the man you think I am.”

I have always wondered
Once, while a Prince living in different palaces of discontent
I offered of my bountiful supply to the poor and needy
Why does my own relief delay?

I have always longed for better days
When all my sorrows will meet their end
When will these teary eyes be opened
To see the way that leads to heavenly home?

I have always been captive to the nagging fear
That this prisoner may never lose his bonds
Nor claim his imaginary palaces
That this house of discontent shall be my forever abode

© 2004

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