Wary of thirst
Wary of wandering
Weary, I wet my cup
In a wellspring I met
By the wayside

And when I put my lip
To its wet lip, the cup shivered
For bitter was the bile
That rose up from the well
And choked its heart

Traveller, it sang, in a voice
That wavered in the distance
Guard your thirst –
For not every bird that sings
Sings of dawn.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.