He calls fire down, Mr Tongue-talking
Like the dragon of Camelot spews it.
Only for show though,
That the multitude might think it the Spirit.
Èrùjèjè looks down
Mumbling inaudible words to Gabriel
“ain’t moved by his gruesome wailing.
Revival I bid him seek”.
But fame, his bleeding heart yearns for
Vainglory his life counts dire.
A reprobate mind the devil willingly bestows.
That Michael might not hear his cries.
Arúgbó Ojo comes down terrific
How I will you seek revival.
How you pant for your daily survival.
That your kingship may regain royalty.
On bended knees, he cried out
With a heart now sincere from the depths.
Ayérayé hurries to hear him who travails
Fire he bestows, that he may prevail.
Until we void ourselves of our self,
And plead with one heart
That He use us for His glory
Our voice will be laced with empty words.
Writer – Oluwaseunayofunmi Owonifaari