Tears like molten magma.
River banks are filled with our tears . we have no where else to shed them, where do we run to?
Friends have become foe .
Their loyalty is like a termite eating firewood.
When we touch them they fall like dust.
Sorrow and sadness streaming from within like a molten magma.

AH! The orb of the day has darkened again !
But “Epasa moto” is awake .
Zephyr blows from Mt Cameroon.
We can hear his susurration in it.
We dance like Masquerades
Intoxicated by ghoulish spirits .
Chanting chaos.
Villagers watching from a fringe in disbelief .
Our grandmother’s breasted chest has fallen.
“Mbamba” is no more ,our grey -haired grandfather.
Who will pour libation for rivers to flow and wash our sorrow’s?
Where can we rest our troubled heads?
Everyone has failed us.
“Epasa moto” has failed us too .
Exiled to nothingness.
We embrace solitude.