Young Bishop

On my way home from afar
I took a bus to the closest place to my house
The bus was filled with certain people of my type
Most of whom were standing
Everybody was minding their business
Though annoyed by the unconduciveness in the bus
Up until the end of the ride it was uneventful

Suddenly from the silence in the bus came the voice of a preacher
He called himself the young bishop
Standing on top of his voice; so I believed
He shouted 'Darkness is not good'
This he did three times
And so many of his words followed
He amused us not by his words
But by the way his words amused him

Stay far I tell you; from darkness
For it is near
You see it from afar
Soon you'll meet with it
And all you see will count for nothing
It is darkness; so they say
Here you peer hard but nothing greets your sight
You try hard but can't find what you seek
You trample on what causes you pain
Hit hard that which is ready to bring you down
Confusion finds you at whim
And curse flows from your mouth to all you feel and touch
Yes! it's darkness
A known enemy that spares no friend
It takes away the beauty of nature
Each day comes with its
And lo and behold what it has to offer

Indeed it was night
As I climbed down the bus
Heading home
Tearing through the dark
As I try to reconcile the words of the young bishop
And the reality I face
Dark times of the day