No need to run
The future will catch you
Don’t woo the cheap message
Peddled by the fear-mongers
The odds are not against you
They are idle stacks of numbers
The odds are not for you
Numerals don’t break a sweat
You are enthroned endlessly
In the center
Of the season of change
The climate of fear is looming
But the weather is still your villein
The boom showers they promised
Are forever impending
The mold for tomorrow
Lies between your palms
A man’s heart may lie to him
But his hands are never deceptive
© GBOLABO ADETUNJI/ AYOKA
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