Finally, the curtains have unceremoniously come down, with awe and sadness, the sun has set early in the afternoon. From this stage of life dominated not only by scribes of your ilk but also all and sundry from many a sectors in the society.
Black Saturday the 28th of November is the day when my friend, brother and confidante Wilkins alias Producer exited leaving many groping for facts about his untimely and 'unannounced' departure.
Down Memory Lane
I, fellow scribe and friend have mourned all this days but have grown and found it not only fit but also wise to celebrate you, journey with self down memory lane, share the moments despite the killing nostalgia and more so learn to make the best of this life, for short are man's days an equivalent of a passing shadow and a wilting leaf.
Dark, it Became
You endeared the qualities and virtues of a good man in this world, blooming with talent and promising to hit the skies in a while but just before that happened, the bud was nipped and like the sparrow from the skies short of breath, you came tumbling down from body and soul to the amazement and chagrin of all of us. The dreams and vision you had long ago written in the tablet of your hand had just shown signs of fruition. In the prime of your youth you had just learned the ropes of the trade and was ready to immerse yourself into the profession to prove not just your salt but also confirm God's promise of prosperity and hope. You had just realised that mention of the future had come and no more would one say to you of the old and patronising claims of the 'future leader'. You were just out to inform them, to surprise them that, that future had finally come.
Time Running out
Just before all these happened, the clock went-tick, tick, tack tock and ultimately the lights went off, the stage was deserted and many an audience were left wondering that maybe you had missed the lines, sometimes characteristic of a refined thespian. They thought you had employed many of your rib cracking ways to liven the auditorium as you would sometimes especially when you played 'Pieces of Chalk'. It was no strange to many anyway because you had invoked such before.
For the Umpteenth Time......
This, apparently was not the normal joke. It was real- the stage was to remain silent and the audiences gripped by fear, worry and gloom as they learned that it was not that you had missed the lines but that you had lost them. Your breath was no more and like orphaned children, the audience gathered in groups whispering in low tones as they tried to come to terms with the development.
To your Maker you left
Perhaps, we never knew that time was running out. Indeed for me it took long to realise that our meeting was actually crucial. We kept postponing every time, with flimsy reasons of course to support our argument. Little did I know that you were operating on borrowed time and that the bells of exit were beginning to ring from a distance. Soon the sound of the bells went high and high though not loud for me and you to hear. It was just reserved maybe for your hears only if at all you heard it at the last minute.
Then it was
Ultimately, the day of fire came and you had no option but to respond to that calling of eon which none of the mortal being can resist. The last line of the long verse was just being read, and out, you exited the stage.
To your maker you returned. Unto those left behind, we can't mourn you my friend anymore. I have learned to celebrate your life and grow stronger, learn many other lessons especially on procrastination.
Fare thee well my friend, brother and confidante.
