The worst in humanity comes out
When of humanity, little is left,
When on humanity’s door, pounds a threat—
Humanity will destroy itself to be, to exist.
As frailing life kicks out of one,
Another wars with his kind: SURVIVE—
What an excuse of a theme! Yet he mouths it,
As he feeds on the living to live—o’, humanity!
Amidst corpses, I see what once was—
Humanity, slowly becoming, slowly turning…
It rots away from memory, like the gone, going,
Slowly becoming nothing, turning, and fading away.
Along a path blasting with a daylight beam,
Walks Hope in a fine, white robe; she is alone,
And then she’s not—another, in as white a robe,
Joins the walk, holds her hand; her name is Faith.
Benson Langat is a poet, fiction writer, and freelancer. A dreamer, he realizes a world of possibilities through stories and explores life in poetry. Benie is a dad and lives in Nairobi, Kenya.