Taking thoughts backward,
Reminiscences of ancients;
They are lost in memories
Pieces left are hymns in holy papers
Perhaps, discos are the better dance steps.
Taking thoughts backward,
Ancient archives plied through wind
Whirling wind, in my memory they lodge,
Descedants of living sculptures we are
We are, offsprings of a heroine;
MOREMI AJASORO.
Night wailed for the arrival of light
Mistakes committed in the atmosphere
Day light itself mimed to war songs,
Peace eloped along with gunpowder;
Furious cloud was there pathway,
Ile-Ife slept peacefully beneath war blanket.
Ìgbòs taught us words, unfriendly words,
They came as seven, slavery, so called.
Tears of Oramiyan, his shadow consoled
Cos Moremi, right hand on mat,
Slept in the hands of slavery.
Doubt not her power, power of beauty,
Esimirin river spread out intelligence in her brain box;
Victory rolled out canopy as drums sang
Celebration of the return of prodigal peace.
Joy fled the voice of the drums
Esimirin, bad Samaritan, sucked blood for return
Moremi’s fruit of labour was it favourite
Olurogbo, the sacrificed son.
