Nigeria, March 21 -- Immortality

The world's a stage where mortals tread, Brief actors bound by time's thin thread; We strut and fret, we dance and play, Then fading whispers steal us away.

Yet still we dream, of marks that last, To cast our shadows on the past; For fleeting lives will slip from sight, Unless our voices outpace the night.

So we raise our children, seeds we sow, In hopes they'll bloom and boldly grow; To shape the dreams we dared to weave, To build anew, yet never leave.

Our words, like stones, we lay in place, To form a path for future's race; Our deeds, like rivers, carve the land, And leave their prints upon the sand.

For what is life without the song That lingers sweet and echoes strong? A tale told by an idle ton...