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There rose a voice from the land where life was worshipped A mild call sheltered by an ancient culture that thrived on humanity

A dark man
There rose a voice from the land where life was worshipped
A mild call sheltered by an ancient culture that thrived on humanity;
where the moon radiated with the glows of thousands stars,
where moonlight tales unraveled mysteries encased in the past night,
where sons saw through their father's old shrunk eyes.
There rose a call,
armoured in glittering honour,
through the decayed lips of fore-fathers who tread first on the land's face.
Amongst the year's pieces lost in time
There rose a call, incarnated into the scarred face of a lost warrior;
where the nightingale mourns in daylight with the voices of cremated souls,
where the land's voice was hollowed by foreign silence,
where memories were meandered by the blood of lost martrys
whose voices were buried with shroud beside their graves.
There rose a call,
a cry, emerged through the howls of raging whirlwind.
Yesterday, the day the flow of maimed tears were staunched
There rose a call, engulfed in burnt emotions
whose heat dried tears on the tired eyes
of sons who dug six-feet for the voices of their fathers;
where cuffed hands are joined to prevent the bleaching rays of white suns,
where the old sky were peeled off for the birth of new glow,
where the clamouring sea whirled to sing a song of a victorious tide,
There rose a call,
with an ancient voice, a thundering roar from once enslaved tongue
sounding like the fists of thunderclaps on the face of silence 
On the night bore by yesterday's womb
There rose a call, a stuttering voice drunk in mania
purging manifold of fate~written manifestoes;
where a man named his gun against his father's sons,
where strands of menace were melded into war.
There rose a call,
with a voice immersed in steamy pool of confusion.
Straddled on the sides of time
There rose a call, risen from yesteryears and night's dust
voiced out through the throat of the past, present and future
Dawn of today
There rose a call, a mellifluous homely call
that sailed far across the stormy sea of time
for the sons and daughters of AFRICA
To build a new empire with the sand of the past
and rise with the voices of fore~fathers which their fathers dug.

Written by: Adedeji Raphael



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There rose a voice from the land where life was worshipped A mild call sheltered by an ancient culture that thrived on humanity
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