LISTEN

Always hear the unsaid when people talk;
Perceive the noise in the silence.
See the hidden stumble in their walk;
Read the unwritten hope for peace
Even in their threats of violence.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije

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PRESENT BE

The present always becomes the distant past. When Martin Luther put up the 95 theses, that was for him in the present. For us today it is the distant past. When Judas betrayed Jesus, for him that was the present; for us today it is in the distant past. When the artisans at Igbo-Ukwu or in Nok made their bronzes, that was for them the present, the most modern moment they knew. They could have never guessed what the future would be. But for us today, their present is the distant distant past.
Even such is time.
Today will one day be the past, the distant past, and be forgotten. Another day will be the present. Everyday another day. Only the present matters. The present is the only thing that Really IS.
Live in the present, from day to day.
Move with the present, from day today.
BE the present, every day.
Be present in every moment.

Che Chidi Chukwumerije

REPUTATION

So quickly fame
Is followed by shame –
Build instead a good name
That knows no blame –
This should be the aim
Of your substance and game –
Solid name, not fickle fame.
Incorruptible Character is the same
As an inextinguishable flame.
You can remake fortune and fame,
It is hard to recast a broken name.

But if you do fall and lose your face
Stand up tall, don’t hide your face
Learn from your mistakes and change your ways
And boldly seek again the sun’s rays.
It takes Character to push on despite pain
But it also takes character to rise again.

Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

YESTERDAY’S FLOWERS

My memories, are they mine?
Whose Definitions do definitions define?
How many sides has a line?
Grape juice is drunk, but not on wine.
My memories, are they mine?

They are my memories of you,
So what are they? If I asked you
Then I‘d be asking the you of today –
I’d much rather ask the you of yesterday,
The you in my memories of you.

But is that, or was that ever, the real you
Or is it just my memory of you?
My memories of you, are they yours?
Or are they mine? Or are they ours?
Yesterday’s flowers bloom on in me and you.

Che Chidi Chukwumerije