Niyi Osundare
THE closer I get to you
The less of you I see
Never knew the daemon of distance
Was such a trickster-god
Never heard the tale of the sun
Because my ears were far from the sky
Though I can touch the distant mountain
With the tip of a toe
Is the grass really
Greener on the other side?
There is a secret in the silent pasture
That pounding hooves have not revealed
A modest meal in a distant kitchen
May smell like a royal banquet
In a hungry household. The nose sometimes
Travels across uncharted spheres
Imagination is a magic, mysterious imp
With its countless bridges in the air
Sit in a chair from its carpenter’s shed
And watch your rumps crash to the wondering earth
But can we do without it
In our endless fare of “Let’s Pretend”?
Architects that we all are, who live
In the house before it is ever built.