Eze's Musing

 I used to have words, now I don't. My thoughts go flat, there is no bounce. I stare at my status, my handle, and my blog in vain; No words come to mind. How did we go flaccid with no text to show? Our once bubbly minds thud with silent groans The dearth of words like the death of man.

    But someone will say, "How are the dead raised? And with what kind of body do they come?" You fool! That which you sow does not come to life unless it dies; and that which you sow, you do not sow the body which is to be, but a bare grain, perhaps of wheat or of something else. But God gives it a body just as He wished, and to each of the seeds a body of its own. All flesh is not the same flesh, but there is one flesh of men, and another flesh of beasts, and another flesh of birds, and another of fish. There are also heavenly bodies and earthly bodies, but the glory of the heavenly is one, and the glory of the earthly is another. There is one glory of the sun, and another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars; for star differs from star in glory. So also is the resurrection of the dead. It is sown a perishable body, it is raised an imperishable body;   it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raise

When we live, we live for the expectations of all around us When we live, we come under the rules all around us But when we die, we receive freedom from all We are no longer bound by rules and expectations Till a man dies, he must answer to all his boss’ whims, She must live up to her lover’s demands, He can’t take a day off. Then he dies, and is free from them all. When you live, you must be sane and reasonable, You must put up till the last of your fiber. Have you submitted your term papers? Have you met your work target? You have to because you are alive Till a man dies, he is unable to know what is truly important; He gets no help from neighbors. He is strong and can survive. Then he dies and we realize how much we could have helped him. Why should you visit her? She is alive, so don’t intrude into her privacy Why offer to help? He is alive and has a functional mind. Then she dies and we all come visiting, breaking the privacy

I wonder how death operates. This man should not die, For in him lies a swirl pool of life. I wonder how death operates. Was I death, I would make a league – The league of men that cannot die. Men in whom lie swirl pools of life. I wonder how death operates. This man cannot die, For he has a well laid out plan. This man cannot die, Cos his vision is laid in stone. Was I death, I would make an exemption – The league of men that cannot die. Energetic men of vision and purpose Men of calling and responsibility. I wonder how death operates. He kills a man in his prime. He takes a man whose vision is laid in stone He consumes a man whose path is established. This man cannot die, For he has such good nature. This man belongs to the league – The league of men that should not die.

What is my case against death? What vexation do I hold against Him? Is it the gloom he brings? Or the uncertainty at his wake? Which tears me most? What is my case against death? Is it the hope he snaps? Or how unceremoniously he snaps it? Which tears me the most? Which argument do I put up first? Is it that I can’t kiss my love again? Or that I wasn’t allowed to bid her a proper farewell? Which hurts me more? Do I cry for a father who was not allowed to fend for me? Or for that who was not permitted to eat from me? Do I tear for the lover I almost married? Or the wife that couldn’t stay long enough? What is my case against death? Which argument do I put up first? The gloom of death weakens His pain is unspoken The grief too great What is man’s case against death? May 2017, Nedu Eze