Na Vanity

Man waka enter this world alone. No escort, no choir.
From small pikin to man wey dey hustle, fuelled by fire.
E wan carve name wey go loud for wall,
Climb ladder, dodge and fall, and still answer the greatness call.
Plenty rise and drop, like thunder and breeze,
All na journey. sometimes e soft, sometimes e dey seize.
For money, title, mansion wey dey touch sky sef,
Him push alone… but truth be say him no always do am by himself.
Some days na the hand wey he shake lift am from ground,
But later, na those same hands carry spoon come round.
As him eye peel open, him begin dey move with sense,
No more dull moves, every step get defense.
Na there introspection come. Him sit down dey recollect,
Those moments, those faces wey deserve respect.
Because when trophies fade and applause don rest,
Wetin go remain na where he put him chest.
Unfortunately, success na visitor wey no dey last,
E go pose for picture, then waka pass.
E sweet to hear am beside your name, but no be for eternity,
Na touch wey you give wey last pass vanity.
So wetin be legacy? Na the print wey your spirit leave,
The gifts wey you share. No be the one wey you receive.
No be position, or the possessions wey you dey flex,
Look well, as you grow, wetin you dey do before don dey make you vex.
The things wey shine yesterday fit dull tomorrow,
So commot your heart from worldly sorrow.
Life get law wey no dey bend:
Wetin go sweet now, later fit end.

One day, like the first, you go stand alone,
And many days before that, na just you on your own.
Then one day go reach, when you leave all your wealth,
Enter that quiet room, underground…
With no one else but yourself.

Note: with life’s impermanence; what touch will you leave?