They say 'ignorance is bliss'. That's all good and well, until you fall into a ditch that you never knew was there. Subsequently, your state of euphoria is instantly translated to panic or pain. Or whichever comes first. Then you become like the ostrich, whose unrealistic mantra or mannerism is; 'As long as I don't see it (or feel it), then it does not exist'.
Here is my story of analogy, that just might give you an idea. Then you can go on and enjoy my newest English Sonnet 'SHADOW SCHEMES'. I appreciate you for reading.
There was this one house, that kept getting robbed. While the neighbors said and did nothing. They kept their distance and minded their business. The following reasons, was what they gave as explanation for their indifference:
a) The 'victim house', should never have had such 'robbable' items in the first place.
b) Maybe they somehow upset the robbers.
c) They complained too much, after the first robbing incident.
d) Their locks are not as good, as the rest ours etc.
Finally, a day came when the rest of the neighbors were robbed. It was as devastating, as it was destructive. And the resulting outcry, was horrendous. The leader of the robbers, sent the wailing dwellers a message to 'keep the noise down'. 'But why did you come to our house now? Do you not have a frequent victim, anymore?' The disturbed and invaded neighbors, wanted to know. 'No we don't,' replied the leader. 'Indeed, our frequent victim. Had more valuable and 'robbable' items, as you rightly know. But they have moved to a more formidable and unbreakable area. Therefore, we can neither reach nor steal from them.'
'However,' the unimpressed and unwavering thief continued. 'We are still robbers and that's what we do. Anyone can be a victim at any capacity. We just have to rob!'
SHADOW SCHEMES An English Sonnet by Chioma Onwudiwe/2017
Oh crafty and sly, her imprint you hide
You steal from her soul and bask in her rays
Your lies fill the air and the frail abide
Now you crank on the past fearing new days
Before you an exquisite flower blooms
But you pull at grass, to kill your inner nag
Knowing you can’t quench the glory that looms
When at last your bias will quickly sag
For The Light was cast on this body
A channel of providence for these grounds
If you fight her, your efforts stay shoddy
And will prove to be more grave than it sounds
Quit the fake dance with tired shadows
You connive behind yet the flower grows
