THE EYES OF THE EGG

In the eyes of the egg, a story's told

Of life and birth, of growth to unfold

A fragile shell, a precious gem

A future blooms, in a secret whence

The eyes of the egg, like windows bright

Gaze into the soul, with gentle light

A spark within, a flame that glows

A life that's waiting, to break the mold and grow

In the eyes of the egg, we see our past

A journey through, the dawn of time at last

From dust to life, a wundrous ride

A miracle unfolds, as life's threads entwine

The eyes of the egg, a mirror deep

Reflecting hope, in every silent creep

A promise kept, a dream takes flight

In the eyes of the egg, a new dawn lights

With every crack, a new path's made

A journey starts, with a fragile shade

The eyes of the egg, a story weave

A tale of life, in a delicate sleeve

In the eyes of the egg, a message clear

A symbol of new life, and hope that's near

A reminder to nurture, to care and grow

The eyes of the egg, a precious thing to know

In the eyes of the egg, a future's planned

A life that's waiting, to take its stand

A dream that's brewing, a heart that's true

A story unfolding, with a purpose anew

The eyes of the egg, a treasure rare

A gift of life, beyond compare

A symbol of hope, in a world of strife

A reminder of beauty, in a fragile life

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LEADERSHIP CIRCLE

Leaders stand, a circle strong

Empowering each, where dreams belong

Aiming high, with hearts aflame

Daring to dream, with purpose gained

Envisioning goals, with hearts aligned

Rising high, with spirits divine

Ship steering, through trials bold

Innovating, with hearts of gold

Pioneering change, with vision clear

Circle of leaders, casting fear

Ruling with empathy, hearts that care

Leading the way, with love and share

Excellence is the standard, they uphold

Inspiring all, to reach the fold

United they stand, a bond so true

Leaders lifting leaders, anew

Empowering voices, heard and seen

Driving change, with hearts serene

Forward they march, with purpose bold

Creating impact, stories told

Racing towards the future bright

Leading with courage, day and night

Leaving legacies, that never fade

Elevating all, to greater shade

Aspirations met, with hearts content

Dreams achieved, with purpose bent

With hearts connected, they lead the way

Guiding others, through life's stormy bay

Serving with humility, they stand tall

Empowering growth, one heart at a time, after all

Building bridges, strong and wide

Reaching out, with hands that guide

Filling hearts, with hope and light

Lifting spirits, through the darkest night

In the circle, they find their strength

United in purpose, at their greatest length

Leading with vision, and hearts that care

Creating a future, that's bright and fair

Empowering each other, to shine so bold

Leaders in the circle, stories to be told

Inspiring generations, to come and go

Leaving a legacy, that forever grows

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THE FLAME OF PEACE

FAUSTINA FT MICHAEL 

Once upon a time in the deadly village of Agortitefe in the wilderness of the North West lived a young beautiful Ghanaian woman Abiba. She was a very beautiful woman with a kind heart which every woman would love to be. Abiba was a tickled pink woman. She was jovial, gentle and also discipline. She studied very hard to achieve success in life. She was also pregnant with an unborn child.

In the village, many crops were grown so there was abundant food for the people of Agortitefe.

 They were very excited to see the crops grow bountiful. Enough food was there and the people never went hungry.

The village was a place of peace, togetherness and also a place of discipline. In the village, there was this young man Haziz. He was known to be a quiet young man. The people of Agortitefe always says he was a kind lovely man, but never did they they knew his behaviour.

One unfortunately day, all of a sudden, the crops dried off. The people in the village did not know what was going on. Foods in the village was totally deduced. The people of Agortitefe began to face hunger and people were dying out that. 

Little did they know that the young man Haziz whom they always praise is behind all this. He actually hid something under the ground where the crops are grown. The people of Agortitefe were armed to the teeth and could not know what destroying their crops. Food was no longer in the village. The villagers decided to make a move in search of the person who is behind all this problems  and will face the consequences. 

Knowingly,  to avoid a smell after a rat, 

Haziz decided to pollute the minds of the villagers to put blame on the innocent young lady Abiba so he sent some people to spread rumours that Abiba is the one behind all this. Rumours began to spread all over the village. Abiba became worried and did not know what to do. The villagers decided to slap her on her wrist by banishing her from the village without allowing her to say a word.

Abiba journeyed alone in the forest with her unborn child for days untill she met an old man who took her home.

 The old man told her to go have some rest and not fear. The next morning, they had a conversation and she told the old man how she ended up in the forest. The old man told her to keep calm that she can live with him. Days, weeks, months passed by and Abiba finally gave birth to a young lady like her. 

The child grew fast and healthy. She was bold and fearless. Abiba decided to tell her child about their past and how they ended here. She took after her mother so she was named Abiba. Sooner,  her mother gave up her ghost. The old man told her to keep her chin up.

One faithful day, Abiba sat down and decided to go seek an eye for an eye. 

She informed the old man about her journey to the villageof Agortitefe to seek peace for her deceased mother. The following morning Abiba started her journey.  Days, weeks passed by and she finally got to the village. She met Haziz whom the mother told her about. Haziz fell in love with her and decided to marry. Without hesitation,

 Abiba accepted so she could gather information and seek revenge for her deceased mother to prove her innocent. Abiba decided to reveal her true identity on an expected occasion which will be on going soon. 

Time came for the festival to be celebrated. All the people of Agortitefe were gathered to celebrate the occasion.

 After some time, Abiba drew everyone's attention to her. Every eye was on her waiting to hear what she has to say. With boldness, she revealed her identity and all the villagers were amazed. She then revealed the secret of Haziz and even proved it to everyone. 

The problem of deduced food in the village is caused by this young man which u cherished a lot. They were all surprised because Haziz was known as a kind man with good heart. Abiba told them all this led to the death of her mother. That was the reason she journeyed here to seek peace for her mother and free the people from this wicked man. 

Haziz became dumb, he couldn't know what to say because he cannot defend himself no matter what he says. They decided to hang him alive. Weeks later everything went back to it normal state. 

Foods began to grow in the village of Agortitefe. Happiness filled the whole village with smiles on everyone's face.

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THE WET ROAD

Midnight drips on the asphalt, a silver ribbon unspooling ,
Each puddle a mirror to a sky that never sleeps.
Footsteps echo, soft as whispers, chasing shadows that linger
between the flicker of streetlamps and the sigh of rain.

The road remembers every secret it has swallowed—
the rustle of a lover’s coat, the promise of a vanished train.
Mist curls around the tires, blurring the line between now
and the stories that lie beneath the surface of the night.

A lone lantern swings, casting halos that dance on the glaze,
revealing fleeting silhouettes—an old saxophone player, a forgotten diary,
a pair of eyes that flicker like distant constellations,
watching, waiting for a passenger who never arrives.

The water pools around cracked cobblestones, forming portals,
each ripple a portal to another time where the road was dry,
where laughter rang louder than thunder, and love was a promise
etched in chalk before the storm washed it away.

And when the first light of dawn kisses the horizon,
the wet road shimmers, a ghost of itself,
still holding the echo of midnight’s mysteries,
inviting you to walk again—if only to hear its silent song.

Beneath the amber glow, a stray cat pads silently,
its paws leaving fleeting prints that dissolve before sunrise.
A distant train whistles, its echo swallowed by the rain,
leaving only the road’s low hum as a lullaby for wanderers.

In the gutter, a discarded ticket flutters like a moth,
its destination unknown, its promise unclaimed.
The road sighs, a soft susurrus of tires long gone,
and the night folds its velvet curtain over the city’s secrets.

The rain‑killed lantern flickers, casting a brief eclipse,
and for a heartbeat the street becomes a river of glass,
reflecting a sky that isn’t there—stars that whisper, “turn back,”
while a lone figure steps forward, silhouette swallowed by mist.

A distant clock strikes thirteen, its echo trapped in puddles,
each drop a tiny drumbeat of time slipping away.
The wet road shivers, as if remembering footsteps that never left,
and the night leans in, offering secrets only the rain can hear.

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THE GLORIOUS SUNSET OF ODUM

By FAUSTINA FT MICHAEL 

King Ampofo was a ruler of a small village Papase which had a lot of people living there. And they are like thousand, two hundred people, which makes their culture and agriculture mature and grow well.

 The king had three wives but had only one son, Ntikuma which will be crown as the next king of that small town. In the small village, everyone loved and respected each other and this made the village developed. The king was humble and always makes sure his people are protected and free from danger, he also settles disputes among them.

 Everyone loved and respected the king because he was not a miser. He always makes sure his people does not face difficulties and also encourages them to be strong and face reality no matter how difficult life is. King Ampofo was a soft spoken person. 

The king was adored and honoured by his people in the village.

In the small tiny village, a lot of food crops were planted. Foods like maize, yam, cassava, millet, oat and so many on which made the villagers never lack anything.

 This made the people encouraged to keep working hard to earn money. In that tiny village, a man named Odum was known as one of the hardworking man who always tries hard to make the town develop. Odum was a married man with two children Ataa and Tawia.

 His children were very respectful and took after their father. Odum was known to be a kind hearted young man. Everyone respected him, even the king noticed his kind hearted and respectful. Odum was really a submissive person. Odum was such an amazing young man everyone in the village loved. He was gentle and highly principled.  He works harder to make sure his family never go hungry even though they could not afford everything. He was a man of his words. 

He always advises his children to be hardworking because good work comes hardworking. Odum always tries to help others who needs help. He also tells his children that respecting the elderly ones brings more blessing upon your lives. This made the children more encouraged to do the right thing.

On the other hand, Ntikuma, the son of king Ampofo who is to be crown as the next king in the village of Papase is actually a pompous young man. 

Ntikuma, an inconsiderate man going about kicking up arrows. He was a self- centered person. This made the old king which will sooner give up his strength to the ancient goddess was really disturbed. Even the elders in the community were very worried about this harmful behaviour of Ntikuma.  This behaviour of his son made him down the dumps. 

Due to the king having only one son, this make him potray himself like that living stream that flows through the forest and a survival solution for the hunters.

All this attitude make his father strength weaker day by day, which makes him to make a very tough decision that destroy the image of his son.

The people feared him and never wanted to go close to such an ill mannered person. Each time he is sat down to be advised by his father, the king, he always says whatever his father would say is a storm in a tea cup. 

This behaviour of Ntikuma was above ones head. This got the king under the weather. The situation of the king became worse and nothing could be done about it, he grew weaker and weaker. The elders were disturbed to see their king go through this situation but can't help. 

The king knew it was time to kick off the bucket so he called his elders for an important meeting. He told his elders he has made decisions on who to be crown as the next king of this village, but before then, he told them to keep it a secret until he gives up the ghost. He therefore said he has decided to crown Odum as the next king of this village because his son Ntikuma was not showing any good morality which when crown the king will only bring misfortune to the village. His lackadaisical behaviour cannot rule his people. The elders agreed and obeyed the decision of their beloved king. 

The next morning, rumours spread out that the king has finally journey beyong imagination This made the people of Papase sad and wept all tears they could. Ntikuma was eager to sit on the throne but doesn't know what awaits him.

On one faithful afternoon,  elders of the village sent the gong- gong beater to spread new to the people of Papase to leave whatever they are doing and meet at the chiefs palace . This made Ntikuma's pride grew more and more eager to sit on the throne. 

But unfortunately for him, the news was spread out that, Odum whom the king himself has chosen is to take over his throne as the next king to rule, and protect the people of Papase. The people became excited to have Odum crown as the king of this small village. Ntikuma was actually in a kettle of fish and did not know what to do. 

Because of Odums kind hearted and the respect he has for everyone,  ended him a good reward, one person said. Odum was crown the king and is to be called king Odum .

That's was how a new sun was set for Odum the barbarian farmer and his family in the kingdom of Papase village.

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WHEN TWO STRANGERS EYES MEET

In fleeting glance, our souls collide

A spark ignites, hearts start to glide

Two strangers, lost in time and space

Yet, in this moment, our hearts find their place

Eyes lock, and the world fades away

As we drink in the beauty, in disarray

Our hearts beat fast, our souls entwined

In this stolen glance, our love begins

In this instant, our hearts are free

No past, no future, just you and me

No words are spoken, yet we understand

The language of love, that's written on our hands

When two strangers' eyes meet, it's a gift

A chance encounter, a love that's swift

It may be brief, it may be true

But in this moment, my heart belongs to you.

In the silence, our hearts speak loud

A whispered promise, a love avowed

The air is charged, with electric desire

As we bask in the flame, of love's sweet fire

Our eyes, like magnets, can't look away

Drawn to each other, in a loving sway

The world around us, fades to gray

As we get lost, in the love that's here to stay

In this moment, I know it's real❤️❤️

The connection we share, it's not just a feel

It's a spark that's lit, a flame that's grown

A love that's meant to be, all on its own

Time stands still, as we gaze deep

Into each other's eyes, our hearts do leap

The distance closes, our lips do meet

In this sweet moment, our love does greet

Our hearts now beating, as one, we know

In this love, we've found, our hearts will grow

Together forever, in love's sweet throng

When two strangers' eyes meet, and our love is strong.❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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THE FLOW OF THE SALTY TEARS

Tears that fall like ocean waves

Carrying the weight of hidden graves

Salty drops that sting the skin

A bittersweet reminder of joys within

Pain and love, a mixed refrain

Echoes of memories, a heart in pain

The salty taste, a story tells

Of moments lost, and love that dwells

In every tear, a lesson lies

A chance to heal, to open eyes

To the beauty of life's ebb and flow

And the strength to let go

Let the tears fall, let them be free

A cleansing rain, a new beginning to see

For in the sorrow, there's a hidden grace

And in the tears, a newfound space

In the silence, whispers speak

Of resilience, and a heart that seeks

To mend the cracks, to heal the pain

To rise again, like the morning rain

The salty tears, a symbol true

Of a heart that's lived, and loved, and felt anew

So let them fall, like autumn leaves

A shedding of the old, a chance to breathe

In the depths of sorrow, a light will shine

Guiding you through, to a place divine

Where tears are wiped, and joy is restored

And the salty taste, is a memory, no more

And when the tears run dry, and the heart is calm

You'll find the strength, to face the palm

A new dawn breaks, a new path unfolds

A journey through, the darkness, to the gold

In the echoes of, the tears you've cried

A whispered truth, a heart that's tried

To find the lesson, in the tears you've shed

And rise again, with a heart that's been remade.

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BBC Journalist Komla Adom Urges UPSA Students to Uphold Credibility in Storytelling

Lilbed Wordweave News

Telling authentic Ghanaian stories with global standards | Accra | Friday, 31st October, 2025

BBC Journalist Komla Adom Urges UPSA Students to Uphold Credibility in Storytelling

By Obed Yadzo | Lilbed Wordweave News

BBC journalist Komla Adom on Friday, 31st October 2025, urged Level 200 journalism students of the University of Professional Studies, Accra (UPSA) to prioritise accuracy and credibility in their reporting, when he delivered a guest lecture organised by course lecturer Mr. Freeman Kwade on effective storytelling and news pitching.

Komla Adom stressed that credibility is the defining marker of every professional journalist, noting that students who aspire to work with global media brands must demonstrate a consistent commitment to accuracy and responsible storytelling. He explained that the modern information space is crowded with unverified claims, rumours, and sensationalism, making truth-driven journalism more essential than ever. According to him, journalists who invest time in verifying sources, understanding context, and presenting balanced narratives earn the trust of both audiences and editors. He emphasised that accuracy is not merely a technical requirement but a moral obligation, urging the students to treat every story as an opportunity to demonstrate integrity, discipline, and sound judgment in an age where misinformation can spread within seconds.

The session, which began around 10:12 a.m. and continued into the afternoon, focused on the art of story pitching, accuracy, and audience engagement. “Accuracy separates a journalist from a gossip,” Komla emphasised, noting that factual reporting remains the lifeblood of journalism.

“We survive by our sources. Always check who you are quoting and never publish hearsay. Accuracy is what separates a journalist from a gossip.”

The Art of Pitching a Story

The BBC reporter guided students through the key elements of effective story pitching. He highlighted four steps every journalist must master:

1. Grab attention with a strong, clear angle.
2. Write a clean top line that summarizes the story.
3. Show the audience benefit—why the story matters.
4. Deliver strong content through credible facts and human voices.

“When you pitch, sell the story with your confidence. Your tone, your clarity, and your conviction tell editors you understand the story.”

Sharing insights from his newsroom experience, Komla explained what global media such as the BBC look for in a story pitch, stressing that trending topics must never override truth.

“We ask key questions: What’s the story? What’s the value? What’s the talkability? Is it trending nationally or internationally? Credibility must always come before popularity.”

A Traumatic Experience in the Field

When a student asked about the hardest or most traumatic experience he had faced as a journalist, Komla shared a near-death encounter while covering a story along the coast. He recalled how he and a colleague went to report on an assignment, but their boat developed a fault and left them stranded on open water.

“We were swinging on the sea, helpless, and we thought we might die. But thankfully, some people nearby came to our rescue, and we survived.”

He told the class that the experience taught him the importance of preparation, teamwork, and courage, saying it remains one of his most unforgettable moments in the field.

Preparation and Understanding the Audience

Komla reminded students that a journalist’s strength lies in preparation and bravery. He also highlighted that journalists write for real people, not algorithms. He outlined the five basic needs of every audience:

1. Keep me on trend.
2. Inspire me.
3. Divert me.
4. Educate me.
5. Give me perspective.

“When your story meets these needs, it will always find relevance.”

The course lecturer, Mr. Freeman Kwade, described the lecture as “a professional eye-opener that reignited the passion for truth and precision in journalism.” He commended Komla for bridging theory with real newsroom practice, saying the session would “shape how students approach story ideas.”

The class ended with a vote of thanks by Ackah Olivia and a closing prayer by Martins Odjija. Students later took photographs with Komla Adom to mark what many called “a defining moment in their journalism journey.”

Photo Gallery

Filed by Obed Yadzo (Index No: 10323046) | Lilbed Wordweave News

© 2025 Lilbed Wordweave News — Telling authentic Ghanaian stories with global standards.

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THE BETRAYAL OFFENSE

Broken trust, a wound so deep

A cut so sharp, it refuses to sleep

The sting of betrayal, a poison so strong

A pain that echoes, all day long

In the shadows, a snake did creep

A traitor's heart, a deceiver's sleep

A promise made, a vow to break

A bond so strong, now shattered at stake

Memories linger, of a love so true

A friendship forged, now betrayed anew

The offense cuts deep, a scar so wide

A wound that festers, a heart divide

Eyes that once shone, now dim with pain

A heart that trusted, now bears the stain

The weight of hurt, a burden so hard

A grief so heavy, a soul to scar

A call to justice, a cry so loud

A demand for truth, a plea so proud

The offense of betrayal, a wound so raw

A hurt so deep, it refuses to withdraw

A sense of loss, a feeling so cold

A numbness spreads, a heart grown old

The ache of sorrow, a tale so sad

A story told, of a trust so bad

A longing for answers, a search so keen

A quest for closure, a heart unseen

The pain of betrayal, a lesson so hard

A truth so bitter, a heart to guard

A fire that burns, a flame so bright

A passion for justice, a moral right

A stand against deceit, a voice so clear

A call to action, a heart sincere

A resolve so strong, a spirit unbroken

A determination to heal, to make it unspoken

The offense of betrayal, a catalyst so grand

A transformation born, of a wounded hand

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I WAS WRONGLY HEARD

Whispers in the wind, a voice astray

Words twisted, meanings lost in disarray

I spoke my truth, but ears did fail

To hear the heart, behind the frail

In halls of judgment, a verdict was cast

A sentence passed, without a fair grasp

Of the intent, the passion, the fire

That drove my words, my heart's desire

Misunderstood, I stand alone

A stranger to the words I've known

Echoes of me, distorted and cold

A reflection of a story untold

The truth I spoke, was lost in translation

A message mangled, beyond recognition

I tried to speak, but voices were loud

Drowning my words, in a sea of crowd

In the silence, I search for a way

To reclaim my voice, to make it stay

To find the words, that were lost in the air

And make my truth, heard, without a care

I reach out, with a gentle hand

To bridge the gap, to understand

The distance grown, the space between

The words I spoke, and the words unseen

A cry for clarity, a plea for peace

A longing to be heard, to release

The burdens borne, of misheard cries

And find solace, in a listening sigh

In the stillness, I'll find my voice

A gentle whisper, a heartfelt choice

To speak again, with words anew

And hope that ears, will hear me true

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A FEW HAVE STOOD

A few have stood, against the tide,

Their hearts unbroken, their spirits inside.

They faced the storm, with eyes aflame,

And rose above, with a hero's name.

Their stories whispered, through the years,

Of trials faced, and doubts dispelled.

Their footsteps marked, on the path less trod,

A trail of hope, for those who've been awed.

Through darkness and light, they've made their way,

And found the strength, to face the day.

Their voices raised, a chorus clear,

A call to courage, for those who fear.

In the silence, their legacy remains,

A beacon of hope, that still sustains.

A reminder that, though few may stand,

Their impact echoes, across the land.

Their hearts were tested, like gold in fire,

And though they faltered, they never retired.

They rose again, with a warrior's cry,

And claimed their victory, in the morning sky.

Their names etched in, the annals of time,

A testament to, their courage sublime.

A few have stood, and conquered the night,

And lit the way, for the morning light.

Their spirit lives on, a flame that burns,

A guiding star, that navigates the years.

For those who follow, in their footsteps tread,

And find the courage, to stand in their stead.

And when the road ahead seems unclear,

And the shadows fall, and doubts appear,

Their stories whisper, a gentle breeze,

That stirs the heart, and awakens the trees.

And in the echoes, of their noble past,

We find the strength, to stand and last.

For though the journey's long, and hard, and steep,

Their legacy remains, a promise to keep.

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LOVE THAT STAYS ONLY IN DREAMS

In the realm of dreams, where love resides,

A fleeting world, where hearts collide.

A love that's born, and lives, and stays,

Only in dreams, where night's dark sway.

It's a love that's pure, and true, and bright,

A flame that burns, through endless night.

It's a love that's felt, but never seen,

A whispered promise, a heart's keen scream.

In dreams, we meet, and love, and part,

A bittersweet, and tender heart.

A love that's real, yet lost in space,

A memory that time cannot erase.

Oh, love that stays, only in dreams,

A haunting melody, that love's theme.

A symphony, of what could have been,

A love that's lived, in dreams, within.

In morning's light, it fades away,

Leaving only whispers, of what we used to say.

But in the night, it comes alive,

A love that's real, though lost in time's drive.

It's a love that's hidden, deep inside,

A secret kept, where heartstrings reside.

A love that's waiting, to be set free,

In dreams, where love's wild, and carefree.

In slumber's depths, we find our way,

To a love that's meant, to stay.

Though waking life, may say goodbye,

In dreams, our love will never die.

And when we wake, and love's lost gaze,

We'll hold on tight, to memory's haze.

For love that stays, only in dreams,

Is a love that's real, and forever seems.

In quiet moments, we'll recall,

The love we shared, in dreams' hall.

A love that's etched, in heart's core,

A memory that, we'll forever store.

And though it's just, a dream's disguise,

It's a love that's real, in our heart's eyes.

For love that's stayed, only in dreams,

Is a love that's true, and forever gleams.

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THE SOUND OF YOUR OWN NAME

The sound of your own name, a symphony so sweet,

A melody that echoes, a heartbeat that skips a beat.

It's the sound of identity, a call to awaken,

A reminder of existence, a spark that ignites the heart within.

In whispers, it's a gentle breeze,

A soft caress that soothes the soul's disease.

In shouts, it's a declaration, a claim to fame,

A proclamation of self, a name that's etched in flame.

The sound of your own name, a symphony so grand,

A unique signature, a work of art in the palm of God's hand.

It's a sound that's familiar, yet full of surprise,

A mystery that's waiting, to be unraveled with each new sunrise.

In moments of solitude, it's a comforting friend,

A reminder of presence, a voice that transcends the end.

In times of doubt, it's a beacon of light,

A guiding star that navigates, through the darkest of nights.

The sound of your own name, a treasure so divine,

A gift that's been given, a work of art that's uniquely thine.

Embrace it, own it, let it shine so bright,

For it's the sound of your own name, that echoes through eternity's night.

It's a sound that's woven, into the fabric of your soul,

A thread that's connected, to the heart that makes you whole.

It's a sound that's carried, on the wings of every breath,

A reminder of purpose, a call to claim your death.

In the silence, it's a whisper so low,

A gentle reminder, of the love that only you can know.

It's a sound that's waiting, to be discovered anew,

A mystery that's hidden, in the depths of your heart, true.

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The Lamp and the Leader

The Lamp and the Leader

The rain drummed softly on the old church roof. Inside, Kofi sat alone, staring at the flickering lamp on the altar. Kofi: (whispers) “God… they chose me to lead. But what if I’m not enough?” A low thunder rumbled, and the lamp’s flame trembled ,but did not go out. Voice (soft, calm): “A leader’s strength isn’t in knowing all things… but in knowing Me.” Kofi: “Then why do I feel lost?” Voice: “Because you’ve been trying to lead by sight. Faith leads through storms, not around them.” Kofi bowed his head, tears mixing with the sound of rain. Kofi: “So… You’ll walk with me?” Voice: “Always. You hold the staff, but I light the path.” The lamp steadied — bright, warm, alive. And in that glow, Kofi rose, no longer trembling, but trusting.

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YOUR NAME TASTES DIFFERENT IN MY MOUTH THESE DAYS

Your name, once sweet as honey on my lips,

Now lingers bitter, a forgotten script.

The syllables that once danced with glee,

Now falter, heavy with uncertainty.

The memories that clung to every sound,

Now fade like autumn leaves, lost and cold.

The love that once swelled with every breath,

Now whispers doubts, a dying death.

Your name, a puzzle I've yet to solve,

A mix of joy and sorrow, a heart that's unresolved.

I speak it slow, with cautious tongue,

Afraid of what the future may bring.

The taste of your name, once pure and true,

Now lingers different, a bittersweet brew.

A reminder of what's changed, what's past,

A love that's lost its way, at last.

In whispers, I say it, hesitant and low,

Afraid of what the echoes may show.

The walls that once held our love so tight,

Now crumble, leaving only shadows of light.

Your name, a melody that's lost its tune,

A harmony that's broken, a heart that's strewn.

I search for the words to make it new,

But like a puzzle, the pieces won't fit true.

Perhaps in time, the pain will subside,

And your name will taste different, a new tide.

Until then, I'll speak it with care,

A fragile heart, still learning to repair.

The silence that follows, a heavy weight,

A reminder of love's fragile state.

Your name, a whisper, a distant sigh,

A memory that lingers, a love that's gone dry.

In the quiet moments, I hear it clear,

A voice that whispers, "Let go, and hold dear."

The memories we made, the love we shared,

A bittersweet reminder, of what's lost, what's spared.

And as I learn to let go of the pain,

Your name will slowly fade, like a summer rain.

Leaving me with memories, both sweet and sour,

A love that's lost its way, but still leaves its power.

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