MYSTERIOUS MAN

Just another day; unending day,

I dare to welcome everyone, hey,

In the name of Agnus Dei.

Here are the men willing day by day to salvage,

Not only in Apostolate,

But also in all their ways.

This place is where calls are nourished,

Whether for priests or for brothers,

And in this my case not to first years only but to all years,

Towards there in ten years

You know what!

Life is never straight in here, am sorry,

There are multiple bended-back stories.

The herculean task depends on our decisions and policies,

Which drums the loudest when we touch that Glory,

Believe me because this is not irony!

The thing is,

Our stories make us touch the skies,

Even if they might be ambiguous or obvious

Of any descriptions of us.

All of us try to improve those previous scenes,

So that we are not slaves of various histories,

Surely, even Peter Drury knows,

But what is history, what is reality? Answer me!

Didasio and Venancio have information,

To the point of attaching prescription,

That spurs our continuation and motivation

Because, personally, am from a neighbour nation,

Yet I add my intonation in this vocation,

Believing in the authenticity of my intention.

You and me, inside strengths and gifts, needs different,

Outside dreams of priests, perfect

That makes me to yearn to be a prefect

Of myself, health and wealth to fit in this context

But don’t misquote me because I am worth it

Ready to face death of this earth!

Of course, I am a flawed being in reality,

Sometimes unwilling to use the best way conventionally,

Of kneeling to the floor unfortunately,

To pray to God occasionally,

To show me the way that has tranquillity

Pursued the journey of an indelible identity

Because when he called I answered in curiosity,

To place that has fraternity.

From pitch to church, to preach there is unity,

Which teaches how to strip anxiety,

That makes each understand leach in this vicinity,

Which cements four pillars in the society.

Personally, I trust the staff,

Because they puff nice staff,

Which are sound to chart and chant,

To people who are in need of light.

I chant as songs of hope and spiritual,

Not like the ones of Radio and Weasel,

I try to use faith and reason,

Even in spiritual direction,

If you think its lies and fiction,

Just ask Venancio and Didasio

You see, Mallya and Kapya for Pastoral always asking us

That even in holidays kindles a flame everlasting,

As though over passing,

Within the confines of humanity,

Not for personal greatness but to leave enough sanity and spirituality,

That is why am for freedom, maturity and responsibility

Because it rejuvenates diversity in community and in apostolate! I mean Creativity!

Funny, I do not promise the flock glitz

And glamour despite they seem nice,

But I promise hope under Christ,

Hope close to that of mice,

Alternatively, of cancer patients who walk miles determined to find oncologist.

Believe me because I don’t preach lies, well, call me unrealistic,

But my instincts tells me yes I can, that’s why the canning are sick and in sadistic,

With an intention of agonizing my optimization.

You know what! I have ever done it,

Because that plantation I dreamt it,

I dig it,

I weed it but I have never bragged about it.

EEEH! Even if am dreaming, thank God am prophetic!

I am chasing the dream, I, Moses, the ordinary man,

I do not desire flamboyant life style, am not a celebrity,

But I have an identity,

Even if my name rarely warn,

That’s why I spout out, ‘Yes I Can’,

I can, just as Hounsfield the inventor of CT scan,

Because I too, le grand prophet,

Started believing I can walk to Egypt

To this time through Suez canal

When I learnt to work hard even at nine.

The truth is am a simple poet who can wait up to ninety-nine,

Who don’t just create art at all,

But I fashion master piece that comes out master class- out of the box,

I mean outer class not mediocrity

And don’t call me proud because it’s either God or Cesar.

Just as a spade is not a big spoon, so mud is not glass,

That is what we pledge this year in our class.

Furthermore, I measure my friends

Because friends of pressure

Are not a pleasure

But pressure,

Whether those of abuse of alcohol or ‘pesa’.

I tell you, they can wash away all your dreams like Geisha soap

In addition, leave you crying at leisure

Because that’s their pleasure

If not their nature.

I promise they cannot stick and fly together

In the same sorrow feather;

I don’t want to fall like ancient Empire of Rome,

But to discover my potential,

To be rational inspire galaxies of generation,

Flow like H2O,

In future to be a master of my own

So that I might not fumble

With people’s soul

And one way at all to achieve this, is to welcome friends who are loyal.

You can laugh all you want

But I promise I will never hide my account

TO THE WORLD.

Jesus found me when I was on my way out,

Chasing the dream to fly in this world,

Admiring fashion and glamour of this world,

Desiring to follow the crowd,

Make money and copy every fashion on TV and radio,

Aiming to build a big home that another person going to owe,

Thank God, before I could go

And the casket pushed low,

He shone the light that will forever help me navigate.

Postulate to me how to get to,

Listened to his voice all to,

Answered his voice I too,

Started pursuing silence rather than noise chaque jour,

yes! Chaque jour, each and every day and now I look my face in a mirror grateful.

I said I have a world to tell,

I have people to preach to,

Way back my sister thought I was possessed,

May back my friends thought I was obsessed,

Even after, wayward formators thought I was depressed,

Thank God, now that, he gives me courage not to be oppressed

But to be real when I express I am pressed,

Now all as endorse it as a progress!

This is no longer my account,

But Jesus whom I count on.

I’m not ashamed to tell the world because time might run out.

This is not an argument am taking

But a reality I am placing,

Because I’ll never forget all I do is through Him, the one,

Who never faking His love,

Ever letting me accomplish one by one,

Forever pouring his blessing flow to me below

Convinced that your existence is real because I know.

His providence makes me speechless.

When am toothless he makes me shameless,

Caring less

About my doubters just like Clayton Jennings said,

and I quote, “it’s not my mission to be loved, it’s not my aim to be known”

So do I say I would care less if I don’t find text on my phone,

what am grateful of is, Jesus has put me as his own.

By ASHANGO MOSES.