His name was Mila

He lived above all yet beneath all
A creation who acted like the creator
Ever boastful, forgetting his palm kernel was cracked by a benevolent spirit

All knowing yet with the least incline
A bloated head of nothing but nothing
Eyes as bright as the bat at noonday
Ears so attentive to none but his own counsel
His thoughts? Warped
Feelings of exaggerated self-esteem
Lived in a world where he alone was fit to thrive
That’s how best to describe him

He was decked in splendour
But not a farthing to spare for his fellow earthlings

Never had a shred of sympathy for the needy
For his sense of empathy was long seared in the couldron of vanity

“Their misery their business”
His pleasure his prime pursuit

“Tread softly my friend” Alero once told him
One mindful moment in the morning
“Life is never about just you”, he pursued
“Oh, spare me the homily”, Mila countered
“For I no longer have a use for such pitiful counsel
Up I am and down you are”

He sauntered through the bridge called life
From one end of oblivion he crossed to the other end of recognition
Then burned down the bridge at his wake
Not thinking he was ever going to need it hereafter
He sold out his beloved during the time of plenty
Never for a second thought he could need them in time of scarcity

He got a long-desired ticket to Eden
And pulled down his homestead on his way out
What happens when tornado strikes at Eden?
Will he have a homestead to return to when tormented?

“Tell him to take a leaf from the haughty elephant” cried Awero
Even to his friend Alero

“But he never listens, don’t you know?
His ears all boarded up with the hype of vanity
His stream of wisdom dried up
When his season of spring showed up”

When the downfall of a man is ripe
The sense of reason in him is wiped

He was like the fly that scorned good counsel
And ended up in the grave with the corpse
Even like the stray dog who never heed the hunter’s cry of retreat

So he continued in his self-appointed path
Destitute of true companions
But surrounded by backscratchers
Dance on! We are right behind you! they cheered
Regailing him with the beats from the mocking drum
And trumpets blasting melodious doomsday tunes

He danced on in perceived forward motions
Till he got to the edge of an occluded cliff
Here he danced so much till he began to spiral
Loosing control of himself
His feet slipped and gravity came true
Hastening him down in such a seamless descent
Till he plunged finally into a certain end.

Thanks for dropping by and leaving a comment.

Image Credit: Clip Art


27 thoughts on “BEFORE THE FALL

  1. A moral lesson from the legend of Mira. Beautifully written. Your choice of words, proverbs, tone and structure deserves applauds. Well done sir.


  2. Awesome poem. Well writen, full of wisdom and with a great lesson👏👌In my language we call Mila ‘eze onye agwana m’ meaning ‘ A King who doesnt take counsel from anyone or King I know it all’. Very arrogant and self centred. The end of such is always fatal as in the case of Mila. I enjoyed reading it.


    1. As always, you did justice to the essence of the poem. The first thing I’m going to learn in ‘my second coming’ is the Igbo language – so melodious. Thanks again for your apt review. Don’t stop inspiring?🙏


  3. An amazing read, Dare. An apt illustration of the popular proverb ‘pride goes before a fall’. I love it!


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