james agada

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james agada
Tuesday 16 February 2021

Unfinished

Unfinished is the title of the song 

whose rhythm we forever seek

The lyrics were written eons ago

In the rumbling of rocks that has not yet stopped

In the wind that still races around the globe 

race around these rocks

Chipping away bits here and then there

The lyrics are there in the letters of life 

strung together in the minute memory of our cells

To read and recreate and reform

 in the unfinished business of life

Unfinished is the war we fight 

to take the earth and its contents

And fight to take our life into our hands

to break the bondage of sin, man, and oppression

Unfinished is our quest for justice 

for those that have been shattered and squashed, 

run over and rolled over and forgotten 

Unfinished is our blood that runs hot 

at the excitement of words and calls to action, 

to rebel and to capture, to rebuild and to destroy again

Unfinished is the counting of the stars that stretch across the skies

 inviting us to look up and continue the count

Unfinished is our search for the beginning 

Unfinished is our search for the end. 

Unfinished is this poem.

Unfinished.



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