A peek into the Future.

If only we could tell what the future holds, we would probably all be geniuses. And so, for the most part, the vast majority of humanity gropes in the dark, a measure of uncertainty about any and everything. One thing that’s totally out of our control is the country we are from or the family we are born into, rich, poor or average. The game of life has no patterns. The rich become poor. The poor become rich. One thing is common to all. Everyone dies, rich or poor—and everything about everyone pales into insignificance—a little bit down the road beginning from the moment the shovel of sand pounds on the casket. Dust to dust. Ashes to ashes. The dance and the rhythms of life continue in the timeless cycle of eternity.

One journey ends. Notice is served that people will also gather for you, at a date unknown. Hence, the timeless Poem by John Donne——-“——For whom the Bell tolls, I do not know. It tolls for thee.” In the last one year, six precious people whom I knew from childhood, or came to know through Secondary School or by way of marriage have taken a bow. First, the news comes. We are in shock. We make calls all around—- is it true, is it true? We gather, and we say goodbye. Then, we go to the reception party. We eat, and we dance. I had always wondered why we should dance just after we have placed a loved one in a dark and lonely earthen space with mounds of sand smothering. With time, I’ve come to see that part of it differently. It is our therapy, an opportunity for us to make the transition from grief back to the grind of a daily existence, to outsteal, outfox, outexcel, to ruin or to build—the hustle, and the bustle. And then, the famous or infamous King draws his conclusion—having seen it all and done it all. He built palaces and great Temples. He married 700 wives. He had 300 concubines. He did not do much to change the lives of his people. “Vanity upon vanity,” he concluded. “All is vanity.” No one remembers you after a while. The question therefore arises. Why do we strive? We strive in search of meaning. A life without striving is a life not worth living. So, my friends, never stop striving. I welcome you to a new day because you and I are still here.

Michael Ovienmhada.
Author, Poet, Playwright and Public Affairs Commentator.
omeekey@hotmail.com

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