With eyes set on distance of the race,
He breezed through articulated semesters
Of the way towards the honor’s mark
Ambition sweet-earned as meal full-done alone,
Cooking alike for drooling mouths
Of hungry old and the young
Aligned with imperative lifelong learning
Determined to burn the track through as you,
But cramped at the sinew of their sprightly-feet
By some crushing constraints of the time,
Dreams sudden went up in flames
Before their very eyes,
Their hands set on plate-edges
At mid-meal deathly undone, alas
Unequal, indeed, are the horses' tails
Up for picks in the great bowl of destiny
The fault, I believe, is not in their stars;
Neither the virtues, solely, innate to you.
The word then is favor.
... for Wale Olubode.