Yes, the mountain I have been climbing
Everyday like it would never be boring
Right from the bottom skirting
Up to the peak’s crest
The climb seems never ending.

I see the clouds hanging in the leery
But above, the sun never seems to tire
As though to tell of a world of two gods
Of man hustling another
Just to get the best of both worlds.

The stench of the moral rot is sickening
The ecclesiastic business entity is flourishing
With the shepherds harvesting the wool
Leaving their sheep to cumber in utmost cold
The God above should be fuming in anger.

The political bulls are fighting and never relenting
Their eyes fixed on the visions of power
The spectacle attracts the herds
Each waiting to celebrate a victory
When the grass they stand on suffers slow death.
This mountain is surely just a dream
That I ride when I am high
It is about this world, its standard realities
About how leadership is ordained
In the hearts of those not venerated.