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

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