PUBLICATION–033MM2023
Obe nya ọ kpa alúrwé bala ányị-egu; thanks for feeding hunters and orphans.
In wild fields, where nature weaves,
Thrives a fruit that mankind receives.
A treasure untouched, by human hands,
Grown freely in uncharted lands.
A gift bestowed, each season's grace,
With no need for labour's embrace.
No planted seeds, no harrowed ground,
Yet this humble fruit, it's provision found.
Its essence, a restorative for hunters,
Nourishing, fulfilling, making us whole.
Nature's artistry on branches high,
A lesson for the passerby.
For in this fruit, we find a teach,
Lessons that every heart can reach.
That giving without expectation,
Is the essence of our foundation.
In wildness, this fruit does dwell,
Where harmony and chaos, enthrall,
Where life's conundrums intertwine,
This fruit reminds us, it's all in time.
Its aroma beckons to the skies,
Calling humans to be likewise,
To serve each other, like this fruit,
Without reward or attribute.
Oh, fruit so wild, untouched, yet pure,
A humble symbol, we must endure,
To labour not for self alone,
But for the seeds of kindness sown.
For when we learn, from nature's hand,
That service is where we expand,
We'll find the purpose we all seek,
To live a life humanely unique.
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