The Lost Glory

In a far away land, between the central and Western Regions of Africa,

Lies a Haven as many would call,

A land of Glory as expressed by every abiding soul.

Strong, grande with it’s Glory seated on the throne of unity,

Now rests in ruins..

A fraction of the United whole becomes a deserted emplacement with thick layers of unattended thurfs.

No longer free and united,

She resides within a dilapidated stone wall with cracks that tell stories of her never ending quest to attain freedom.

A once glorious haven, now becomes a God forsaken sanctuary for the Lost soul that even death will not be welcomed here…

The land is drenched in a pool of the red liquid carrying the lives of the needed to the depleted ruins of the forgotten past.

A land of Glory would it seem to be when every atom of it’s fame, now receives a standing ovation from shame.

But once again

It’s Glory pleads to be regained

Tired of the antagonistic presence

The heavens open wide the gate to it’s heart and bleeds droplets of dazzling rain

To wash off the ruins and bring gladness again.

Originally posted by : Livingwhatyoulove


This poem is dedicated to my fatherland. At now we’re experiencing huge socio_political crises.

To the regaining of the Lost Glory of my nation and to all the Fallen Heros who have lost their lives on the battleground leading to peace.❤️❤️❤️