HEPSS Old Student Honours Mr. Amegatsiti Wisdom, Powerful Eʋegbe Teacher

 obedyadzo01.blogspot.com Lilbed Wordweave

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HEPSS Old Student Honours Mr. Amegatsiti Wisdom, Powerful Eʋegbe Teacher

Mr Amegatsiti Wisdom

Affectionately called Mr. Amegatsiti, “Papa” has guided, inspired, and empowered generations through his teaching and selfless mentorship.

Byline:

By Obed Yadzo, Lilbed Wordweave

Obed Yadzo Lilbed

HEPSS old student Obed Yadzo is celebrating Mr. Amegatsiti, a powerful Eʋegbe teacher affectionately called Mr. Amegatsiti, for his exceptional guidance and dedication.

From the first day Obed set foot on campus, Mr. Amegatsiti was there—teaching, guiding, and lifting him in every way. He celebrated victories, supported him through challenges, and remained a steady presence in moments of uncertainty. Unlike many, he does not wait to rise—he is already there, empowering others with selfless care and unwavering commitment.

Amegatsiti Wisdom

Obed recalls a life-changing moment when illness threatened his life.

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Mr. Amegatsiti’s influence goes far beyond academics. “He teaches us that growth comes from sharing knowledge, lifting others, and walking together,” Obed said. “He has impacted my life not just as a teacher of Eʋegbe, but as a mentor and father.”

His dedication has shaped the culture of HEPSS Campus, leaving a lasting mark on the lives of those he guides. Lilbed Wordweave honours his legacy, recognising that the true measure of his work is in the hearts he touches, the inspiration he provides, and the selfless example he sets.

A Poem for Mr. Amegatsiti

Amegatsiti Wisdom

Papa, you stand before us strong,

Guiding hearts where they belong.

Selfless hands, unwavering care,

You lift us all, always there.

In storms, you stand, I stand with you,

In joy, you smile, my dreams pursue.

Forever in my heart you stay,

A father, guide, and light always.

Obed continues to strive to make him proud, inspired by a teacher whose selflessness, wisdom, and dedication leave a permanent mark. Mr. Amegatsiti’s impact is enduring, and he remains, and will always remain, in the hearts of those he mentors and loves.

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You've been there.Mr Amegatsiti Wisdom.

Papa Amegatsiti (When the past is calling, i have remembered it all)

There are people who pass through your life like the wind — here today, gone tomorrow — and then there are those whose presence plants roots deep in your soul. You, Papa, are one of the latter. From the moment I stepped onto the HEPSS Campus, you were there. Not simply as a teacher or a guide, but as a father. A steady presence. A safe place. You have shown me that true leadership is not about position, but about presence. You stand with your people in their joy and in their pain. When we succeed, you rejoice with us. When we stumble, you reach down without hesitation. When the storms break, you don’t seek shelter — you stay in the rain, holding the umbrella over those who cannot hold it for themselves. I will never forget the day my own body was failing me. Sickness came like a thief in the night, threatening to end my story before its time. In that dark moment, you stepped in. You didn’t simply offer words — you offered yourself. And by your care, your courage, and your heart, you gave me back my life until my mom came in... Since then, my gratitude has not been a fleeting feeling, but a living truth I carry every day. You are the reminder that goodness still walks this earth. You are proof that one person’s love can shift the course of another person’s life. Papa, we are running our race with the hope of making you proud. And as long as my heart beats, I will celebrate you — not only for saving my life, but for touching so many others. You are a chapter in my story that will never fade, a name I will carry with honor, and a man whose kindness will echo far beyond his own lifetime. You are, and will always be, in my heart. Papa Amegatsiti… In life, we are called to rise— but the true calling is not just to rise alone… it’s to rise while lifting others. Like a great motherboard— connecting, powering, sustaining— you became that bridge for many of us. You pulled people from the mud, and as you rose, you carried them with you. I have learned this truth from you: We are human. We don’t know it all. But when I share what I know, and you share what you know, we grow together— not just in mind, but in heart, Papa Amegatsiti (When the past is calling, i have remembered it all)

There are people who pass through your life like the wind — here today, gone tomorrow — and then there are those whose presence plants roots deep in your soul. You, Papa, are one of the latter. From the moment I stepped onto the HEPSS Campus, you were there. Not simply as a teacher or a guide, but as a father. A steady presence. A safe place. You have shown me that true leadership is not about position, but about presence. You stand with your people in their joy and in their pain. When we succeed, you rejoice with us. When we stumble, you reach down without hesitation. When the storms break, you don’t seek shelter — you stay in the rain, holding the umbrella over those who cannot hold it for themselves. I will never forget the day my own body was failing me. Sickness came like a thief in the night, threatening to end my story before its time. In that dark moment, you stepped in. You didn’t simply offer words — you offered yourself. And by your care, your courage, and your heart, you gave me back my life until my mom came in... Since then, my gratitude has not been a fleeting feeling, but a living truth I carry every day. You are the reminder that goodness still walks this earth. You are proof that one person’s love can shift the course of another person’s life. Papa, we are running our race with the hope of making you proud. And as long as my heart beats, I will celebrate you — not only for saving my life, but for touching so many others. You are a chapter in my story that will never fade, a name I will carry with honor, and a man whose kindness will echo far beyond his own lifetime. You are, and will always be, in my heart. Papa Amegatsiti… In life, we are called to rise— but the true calling is not just to rise alone… it’s to rise while lifting others. Like a great motherboard— connecting, powering, sustaining— you became that bridge for many of us. You pulled people from the mud, and as you rose, you carried them with you. I have learned this truth from you: We are human. We don’t know it all. But when I share what I know, and you share what you know, we grow together— not just in mind, but in heart, in quality, in quality, in humanity. Papa, from the very first day I set foot on HEPSS Campus, you stood as more than a mentor. You were a father. Not the kind who only gives advice, but the kind who walks the journey, step by step, with his children. When we made progress, you celebrated with us. When we stumbled, you stretched out your hand. When the storms came, you didn’t run for shelter— you stood in the rain with us. And I will never forget… the day sickness tried to end my story. It was a day when hope felt far, and strength was almost gone. But you stepped in. You fought for me. You saved my life. That day engraved you forever in my heart. Papa, we love you. We are on the path, working, striving, learning— all to make you proud. And hear this… As long as my heart beats, I will celebrate you. Not only for the life you saved, but for the many lives you’ve touched. For the seeds of kindness you’ve planted, for the example you’ve set, for the love you’ve shown without counting the cost. Papa Amegatsiti, you are not just part of my story— you are a chapter, a turning point, a reason I am still here. You are always… always… in my heart. ❤️ I hope this Letter recalls reality of a great future that is to come..

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THE PRICELESS LIFE

Written by MICHAEL AGBAH 

Many though you were the panecea 

But never no, you raise more controversy 

Happiness you called, but hopeless you are 

The precious gold was not found in you 

Then why do you some people put trust in you 

Some families are derelict because of you 

Children are not contemplated due to your existence 

If all this are dilapidated because of you 

Then why were you proposed everywhere 

Some parents were hurt emotional

Brothers and sisters were mortify because of you 

But share greatest tears in the heart 

Rumors from village to cities due to your presence 

Which questions can parents answer?

When they are more than the hair 

Question flow like the river 

Brotherhood are the only propitious happiness 

While families happiness are dusted 

Rules and regulations absent you from them

What a vile nature we created?

All because of the bloody alter

That the youths initiate themselves in

May I be gratified and never plummet in

With the bloody alter source of frail happiness.

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THE TERRACE HEART

Written by MICHAEL AGBAH 

Boldness and braveness of the love is the heart 

You are my peace and comforter

You make me glance through my life softly 

I enjoyed the sunset with peaceful mindset 

Many hearts were found but don't profound love 

Though, the feelings are hard,

They rather die like a flower in the dry season 

Your heart never dry like a flower in the dry season 

You are the greatest rock that fall into the greatest ocean 

Splash water at it banks beautifully 

No pain or disaster, my Terrace heart 

Your heart is known full of happiness 

Ohh loyal heart of the century

May you never die like a flower 

When there's a dry season 

You never break when fallen like a glass 

You are bold, strong and great 

With you there's Joy and moral values 

In life and after life you will forever 

Be the loyal friend I ever know 

The perfect space for love

That's why I pronounce you my TERRACE HEART 

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MY WORST TRAITOR

Written by MICHAEL AGBAH 

My best friend is my worst traitor 

It's encourages me all day and night 

It's gives me joy more than everything 

The best friend l had ever 

You use my body, soul and spirit 

All my assurance was in you 

You were there for me in good terms 

You were there for me in bad situations 

You advises me like how a mother does 

Through you, many friends were are accepted 

Through you others are neglected 

Why do you soon become my traitor?

You push me to places l never wish to go

You make me approach people 

I never wish or thought of reaching out to 

You did all this in the name of LOVE why?

My precious friend " HEART" why now?

Why do you betray me through my kindness?

The flow of the rivers never goes backwards 

I just want you to function okay 

As well as my best friend you used to be 

And not my betrayal and traitor any more.

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APPRECIATION TO YOU MY MENTOR

Written by MICHAEL AGBAH 

With guidance and solicitude, you ushers the way 

A teacher, a mentor, in everyday 

Your patience and kindness, a shinning shimmer 

Abetting me heighten, through day and night 

Like a father, you offer wise words 

Encouraging me, through joys and words 

Your lessons go beyond the classroom walls 

Teaching life's values, standing tall

With compassion and empathy, you show 

A genuine interest, as l grow

Your influence extends, far and wide

A lasting part impact, deep inside 

The breeze that blows through the forest 

The father of the fatherless 

Your words are like a stepping stones 

In your presence, l feel beheld and heard

A sense of belonging, like a precious word

You be in me, trust in me , when l doubt 

A vote of confidence without a rout 

I appreciate you with my life and hope

Thank you, dear teacher, father figure true

For being a source in my life 

Your legacy will forever stay 

A guiding light to my footsteps 

A guiding light, on my life way

I thank God for having you as a mentor 

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FOREVER IN MY HEART

Write by MICHAEL AGBAH 

With tender care, you nurture me

A love so pure, a heart so free with joy 

Your guidance and wisdom, a precious guide 

Helping me grow, with a loving stride of happiness 

Your selfless devotion, a shinning light 

You wipe my tears, and calm my fears 

A comforting presence, through all my years 

With every hug, and every smile 

You make me feel, worth your while 

Your patience and kindness, a gentle breeze 

Soothing my soul, with a loving ease 

In your arms , l find peace and joy

A sense of belonging to a faithful mother

A hardworking and loyal mother 

Your love never ease or fade

You teach me strength and resilience too

A mother's love forever true 

I'm great and grateful to you more than the words can describe 

For being my rock, my guiding light 

Thank you, dear mother for all 

For ever in my heart , every single day and night.

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The Delicate Dance of Connection and Commitment

Love and Marriage: The Delicate Dance of Connection and Commitment

Love and marriage are often seen as two sides of the same coin, yet their relationship is intricate, dynamic, and deeply personal. While love is the emotional bond that draws two individuals together, marriage represents the structured, social, and often legal framework in which that bond is nurtured, challenged, and sustained. Understanding their interplay is essential to fostering lasting, fulfilling partnerships. Research in psychology and sociology consistently shows that the quality of love in a marriage is one of the strongest predictors of long-term satisfaction and stability. According to Dr. John Gottman, a leading relationship researcher, couples who exhibit consistent emotional attunement, empathy, and conflict-resolution skills are far more likely to maintain a happy marriage. Love, in this sense, is not just a feeling but a set of behaviors—active listening, support, and mutual respect—that create a resilient foundation for commitment. Marriage, however, brings a different set of dynamics. While love can be spontaneous and euphoric, marriage introduces structure, shared responsibilities, and long-term decision-making. Studies show that couples who engage in regular, intentional communication about life goals, finances, and personal values tend to report higher satisfaction levels. Marriage, then, is not merely the celebration of love but the cultivation of shared purpose and mutual growth. Importantly, love and marriage are deeply influenced by cultural expectations and societal norms. In many societies, marriage carries symbolic weight beyond the personal realm—it is a marker of social status, family honor, and economic stability. These external pressures can either reinforce the bond between partners or create tension if expectations are misaligned. Navigating this terrain requires emotional intelligence, self-awareness, and often, negotiation. Another critical dimension is the evolution of love over time. Romantic love, characterized by passion and intensity, naturally changes as a marriage matures. Research indicates that long-lasting relationships often transition from passionate love to companionate love—a deep, enduring affection rooted in trust, shared experiences, and mutual respect. Couples who recognize and embrace this evolution tend to experience greater satisfaction, as they appreciate the stability and intimacy that companionate love brings. Ultimately, love and marriage are not static constructs; they are living, evolving systems. Success in both realms requires commitment, adaptability, and a willingness to grow together through challenges and change. Marriage can amplify the joy of love, but it also tests patience, empathy, and resilience. Couples who approach this partnership with intention and self-awareness are more likely to experience not just lasting happiness, but a profound, shared sense of purpose and fulfillment. In conclusion, love is the heart of connection, while marriage is the vessel that carries it through life’s complexities. When nurtured with respect, communication, and intentionality, the combination of both creates a powerful platform for enduring joy and human flourishing.

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THE MISFORTUNE GOAL TRACK

The misfortune goal track l ever had 

My goals never fail me then,

My heart desires are never too much 

With parents, almost everything can be done 

Loneliness can influence in many situations 

You are the track l never hold on to 

Many are am in, l never hope for

Being an orphan was never my wish

But according to nature, what can I do?

Is not every shoe size that fits me 

But I wear the shoe size of my uncle 

Banana never begs monkey to be eaten 

But I beg for my shoe size but never imagined how misfortune the distance is

My goals track never goes like how I wish

It's become worse than ever 

My dreams were abolish like taboos 

Impossible in the nature of life

Even under the ocean there's sand

My goals were covered like the ocean on the sand

The l ideas were fetched by the fisherman in the ocean 

They smoke and dried up 

All my goals never reached their destination 

They collapse because, there was no pillars 

Misfortune goal tracks are the worse thing 

That will ever happen to anyone 

May misfortune goal track never 

My door steps 

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Answers to Where Will They Pass?

Answers to Where Will They Pass?

What if the skies fold their arms,

And nature says, No more flights here —

Where will our planes pass?

They will crash into the pride of man,

And rust in the graveyard of forgotten dreams.

What if the roads we boast of

Melt into a muddy soup,

And tyres sink like stones in clay —

Where will the cars pass?

They will rot on their wheels,

While the dust laughs at their silence.

What if the rivers we traced on maps

Are swallowed into the earth’s own belly,

And the ships we carved like kings

Find no throne of water?

Where will they pass?

They will sit in dry harbours,

Like caged giants with no song to sing.

Shall we return to the olden ways,

Harnessing horses, barefoot in the dust?

But if the paths themselves close their lips,

Where will they pass?

They will stumble in circles,

As the earth reclaims her patience.

And if God, with one holy breath,

Discards our wires, our wheels, our wings,

If He turns His face from our artificial being —

Where will our creations pass?

They will pass into nothingness,

Back into the silence from which they came.

And where will we pass?

Into the truth we feared to admit —

That without His grace,

We have nowhere to go.

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Where Will They Pass?

Where Will They Pass?

What if the skies fold their arms,

And nature says, No more flights here -

Where will our planes pass?

Will they flap like lost birds,

Or sink into the clouds they once ruled?

What if the roads we boast of

Melt into a muddy soup,

And tyres sink like stones in clay -

Where will the cars pass?

What if the rivers we traced on maps

Are swallowed into the earth’s own belly,

And the ships we carved like kings

Find no throne of water?

Where will they pass?

Shall we return to the olden ways,

Harnessing horses, barefoot in the dust?

But if the paths themselves close their lips,

Where will they pass?

And if God, with one holy breath,

Discards our wires, our wheels, our wings,

If He turns His face from our artificial being -

Where will our creations pass?

Where will we pass?

 I only need  us to honor God for mercy and Love...

Lilbed Rhetorical Questions

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THE SAME RIVERS WITH DIFFERENT SHAPES

Written by MICHAEL AGBAH and DORHEAME EMMANUEL 

In the town of AMEDZOFE, names were like rivers. They flow through vallies, mountains, tumbling over rocks and whispering through the forest and finally emptied into the sea

You could meet the same rivers at different places and yet , each one carry itself with a different presences as if the names are the Rivers while the shapes are their heart. The first river was River Nile that changes to River Zambezi on it's journey and Yangtze long and winding.

Same names with different shapes, but each of the rivers took on the shapes of the ground they flowed over, their origins, paths and directions. It's their heart that carves the channel. Names are rivers while characters are the shapes they took from the environment.

Some shapes give life to all while some provoke and destroyed other shapes. Some erodes the land and stir up storms. Some surprised you, changing course when least is expected. The same river may look completely different in another man's town and so it goes with the names.

Many thoughts the rivers were disastrous but never know that, the shapes it's carries is the worst thing. Ask yourself if that shapes increases and reach your family, what will be the outcome? Disgrace. Your response will be , the shapes of this river is really increasing, when blaming the shape you forget that you are letting the river free. 

Why should we be blaming the rivers while letting the shapes goes? But not knowing it's rather the shapes that defines the RIVERS. A person abilities can't be defines by his or her name but his or her characters  can identify them.

May we never judge the rivers but rather put the shapes on a good set so that it will turn a good turn for the best. Judge not by the rivers names but by the shape it takes as its moves through the World. Thank you.

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THE PITEOUS FEELINGS

Written by MICHAEL AGBAH 

This yarn is about some fortunate lovers that occurs between three wonderful friends. 

Namely: MICHAEL as MUMMIES, EMMANUEL as ACCURACY and finally LILIAN as TREASURE.

The beginning of the anecdote goes like this,

One peaceful Sunday morning 5:30 am when the three friends had a conversation that lead them from friendship to lovers.

ACCURACY: Good morning bro

 

MUMMIES: Morning, how are         you doing today?

ACCURACY: Am superp and how are you copping for the day? 

MUMMIES: Normal ooo , what are we doing for today's church services?

ACCURACY: We will do better than last week ok, hope you are leading the praises team? 

MUMMIES: No ooo Treasure will be leading them 

ACCURACY: Why should she? When she is not even aware of it.

MUMMIES: I love to see her sing and how she used the stage looks beautiful.

ACCURACY: Hope you are not falling in love with Treasure ooo?

MUMMIES: She is one in a million bro, hardworking, intelligence and hospitality.

ACCURACY: If only you said so, all best your new love bro.

MUMMIES: Thanks bro let me call her and inform her about it then return to you ok.

TREASURE PHONE RINGING 

TREASURE: Hello brother

MUMMIES: Hello dear , how are you doing?

TREASURE: Why this call this early morning? Am good and you?

MUMMIES: Sorry for the disturbance, l just want to inform you about leading the praises team today.

TREASURE: But I didn't plan for that today ooo.

MUMMIES: I know just that my condition is getting worst that is why please.

TREASURE: Then I will go through my songs and do my best.

MUMMIES: Thank you very much l really appreciate, that's why I love you.

TREASURE: What did you just vomit out?

MUMMIES: Nothing l just said thank you.

TREASURE:Ok dear thanks,see you in church wai.

MUMMIES: Ok l will.

CALL HUNG UP 

ACCURACY PHONE RINGING 

ACCURACY: Hello brother man

MUMMIES: Yh everything is settled she will ok.

ACCURACY: You hmmm, who are you? Your nature is different.

MUMMIES: Am the son of the soil, even the Bible says ' what ever the tongue wishes that it shall grant to it'

ACCURACY: Let me prepare and meet you over there bro.

MUMMIES: Sure brother then small time ok.

CALL HUNG UP 

AFTER CHURCH SERVICE 

TREASURE: Brothers please wait for me ok.

MUMMIES: Sure we are 

ACCURACY: Bro make wad and tell her how you feel about her

MUMMIES: I will try and do my best other to stop hurting myself now days, my pillow will rest today.

ACCURACY: I can see and am sure she too she likes you because of how her eyes were on you l swear bro.

MUMMIES: You too you see?

ACCURACY: I did am not a child naa I know what I saw.

MUMMIES: Hi Treasure 

TREASURE: How are you feeling now? l even get you some medication here take 

MUMMIES: Thanks, am better now with your melodious voice, l feel stronger than ever.

ACCURACY: Song of love testimonies, my brother has found love.

TREASURE: Why that comment?

ACCURACY: My brother loves you very much and he just wants you to sing in church so that he will be happy.

TREASURE: Is he telling the truth?

MUMMIES: Yh dear l have feelings for you and am ok too.

ACCURACY: ( Shouted) that's the voice of a man.

MUMMIES: Yh bro thanks for that and I appreciate.

TREASURE: I also have feelings for you but just waiting for you to approach me first, am sorry.

MUMMIES: Then if so dinner at my place and all are invited Treasure the kitchen is all yours.

Thanks to you brother and Treasure l really appreciate you all.

So it's comes to pass after the dinner, MUMMIES proposed to TREASURE and she accepts and they live happy as a family forever and ever.

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Say no to smoking

By Believe Livingstone DAGBEY

In youthful vigor, we stand tall,

Futures of our town, one and all.

But smoking's snare, a deadly trap,

Lures many in, with harmful rap.

Your health, a treasure to preserve,

Don't let nicotine's grip deserve.

Breath fresh, energy abound,

Live life to the fullest, unbound.

As your peer, I urge you to see,

A smoke-free path, the best decree.

Let's serve each other, hand in hand,

Supporting dreams, in our land.

Your dreams await, like morning dew,

Don't cloud them with smoke anew.

Be wise, be bold, choose life's way,

And shine, come what may.

Join me, in this noble quest,

Let's make our town, a healthier nest.

Say no to smoking, yes to life,

And together, we'll thrive and strive.

You have the power, make the call,

Live healthy, stand tall.

We're the future, shining bright,

Let's keep our town, a smoking-free sight.

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THE BOY WHO CAN

By Believe Dagbey Livingstone

Synopsis:

In a world where extraordinary abilities are rare and often feared, a young boy named Ernest discovers he possesses an unparalleled gift—he can do anything he sets his mind to. Whether it’s mastering skills overnight, bending reality with sheer willpower, or even defying the laws of nature, Ernest's abilities make him both a marvel and a target.

As he grows, he learns that his power comes with a price: the more he uses it, the more the world around him begins to unravel. Dark forces, envious rivals, and even those who claim to be allies seek to control or destroy him. Ernest must navigate a treacherous path—learning the limits of his power, the meaning of responsibility, and the true cost of being the boy who can.

 

Chapter 1: The First Miracle

Ernest was just five years old when it happened.

He had been playing in the dusty courtyard of his grandmother’s house in Accra when a ball rolled into the busy street. Without thinking, he ran after it—only to freeze as a speeding truck bore down on him.

Time seemed to slow. Ernest’s heart pounded. He didn’t want to die.

And then—he didn’t.

One moment, he was in the path of the truck. The next, he was standing safely on the sidewalk, the ball clutched in his small hands. No one had seen him move. No one understood what had happened.

But Ernest knew.

He could.

And that was only the beginning.

 

Chapter 2: The Secret

Ernest’s grandmother, Mama Ama, was the first to notice.

She had seen many things in her long life—spirits in the wind, dreams that came true, men who could speak to snakes—but nothing like this.

"Ernest," she whispered one night, pulling him close. "What you can do… it is a blessing and a curse. You must never tell anyone."

"But why?" Ernest asked, confused.

"Because the world is not ready for a boy who can do anything."

And so, Ernest kept his secret.

But secrets, like fire, are hard to contain

Chapter 3: The First Test

Ernest's secret remained hidden for two years—until the day his best friend, Believe, fell from the tallest mango tree in the village.

Believe’s scream pierced the air as he tumbled. Without thinking, Ernest willed him to stop.

And he did.

Believe hovered mid-air for a heartbeat before gently floating down. The other children gasped. Some ran. Others whispered: "Juju!"

That night, Believe swore never to speak of it. But secrets, once loose, never stay buried.

Chapter 4: The Stranger

A week later, a man in a dark suit arrived in the village. He asked questions about "unusual occurrences."

Mama Ama’s grip on Ernest’s shoulder tightened. "That man is not from here," she murmured. "He is from the Society."

Ernest didn’t understand—until he saw the man’s eyes flicker with unnatural light.

Chapter 5: The Escape

The stranger returned with armed men. Mama Ama hid Ernest in a root cellar, whispering, "Run to the river if they find you. Do not look back."

Boots stomped above. Ernest’s heart raced. Then—a hand yanked him into the light.

But it wasn’t the stranger.

It was Believe.

"Go!" Believe shoved him toward the trees. Ernest ran, tears blurring his vision. Behind him, a gunshot rang out.

Chapter 6: The River’s Secret

Exhausted, Ernest collapsed by the river. A voice startled him: "You’re the one they seek."

An old woman with silver scars sat beside him. "The river brought you here for a reason," she said. "It knows what you are."

She pressed a pendant into his hand—a tiny, glowing stone. "This will hide you. But not forever."

Chapter 7: The Hidden City

The pendant led Ernest to a place between worlds—a city of crumbling towers, visible only to those with gifts.

"Welcome to Adinkraland," said a boy with mirrored eyes. "Where the forgotten ones live."

Ernest touched a wall; it hummed under his fingers. This place remembers me, he realized.

Chapter 8: The Society’s Hunt

The stranger from the village appeared at the city’s edge. "Ernest," he called, smiling. "We only want to help you."

The mirrored-eye boy hissed, "They lie. They cage people like us."

Ernest’s pendant grew hot. A choice loomed: trust or flee.

Chapter 9: The First Fight

Ernest ran, but the stranger’s men surrounded him. Desperate, he willed the ground to shake.

It did.

Stones flew like arrows. The men screamed. The stranger’s smile vanished. "You don’t understand what you’re playing with, boy."

Ernest’s nose bled. His vision darkened. Too much power, he realized. Too soon.

Chapter 10: The Price

Ernest woke in a hut, the old woman from the river watching him. "You stirred the storm too fast," she said. "Now the Society will hunt you to the ends of the earth."

She pointed to his pendant—now cracked. "Next time, it won’t save you."

Ernest clenched his fists. What am I?

The woman sighed. "You’re the boy who can. And that’s the problem."

Chapter 11: The Marked Boy

The cracked pendant pulsed like a dying heartbeat. The old woman—Auntie Yaa—warned Ernest: "The Society brands those they hunt. See?" She rolled up her sleeve, revealing a scarred symbol. "You’re marked now, even without their ink."

Ernest touched his chest. A faint glow shimmered under his skin.

Chapter 12: The Mirror-Eyed Guide

The boy from Adinkraland, Ato, became Ernest’s reluctant guide. "They call me Seer," he said, tapping his mirrored eyes. "I see lies. Yours? You’re drowning in truth."

Ernest bristled. "What’s that mean?"

Ato smirked. "Means you’re terrible at hiding."

Chapter 13: The First Lesson

Auntie Yaa taught Ernest to "weave" his power—like threading a needle. "Pull too hard, the fabric tears," she said, as he levitated a rock.

The rock crumbled to dust.

"Exactly," she nodded. "Now you understand limits."

Chapter 14: The Bloodhound

A Society tracker, Dogo, found their hideout—a man who smelled magic. Ato’s eyes flashed. "He’s coming. Run."

Ernest hesitated. "What about Auntie Yaa?"

Ato yanked his arm. "She knew the cost."

Chapter 15: The Sacrifice

Gunfire echoed. Ernest turned back just in time to see Auntie Yaa raise her hands—and the earth swallow Dogo whole.

Her last words: "The river will guide you."

Chapter 16: The Broken Bridge

Fleeing north, Ernest and Ato reached a collapsed bridge over the Volta River. Ernest gritted his teeth. "I can fix it."

Ato grabbed him. "No! You’ll bring the storm again—"

Too late. Ernest’s power surged. The bridge reformed… but the water beneath turned black.

Chapter 17: The Fisherman’s Omen

A weathered fisherman, Nii Okai, pulled them from the poisoned river. "You woke the Nkontim," he accused. "Spirits of vengeance. They’ll hunt you now."

Ernest’s hands shook. What have I done?

Chapter 18: The Bargain

Nii Okai offered a deal: "I’ll hide you if you heal my daughter." The girl’s legs were withered—a curse from the Society years ago.

Ernest touched her knees. Power flowed… but her skin turned to bark. "No!" He recoiled.

Ato hissed: "You can’t undo what you don’t understand."

Chapter 19: The Society’s Vault

Ato revealed the truth: "The Society hoards magic in a vault beneath Cape Coast Castle. They stole it from people like us."

Ernest’s blood boiled. "We take it back."

Chapter 20: The Heist Begins

Disguised as laborers, they infiltrated the Castle. But the vault’s lock was a living shadow—it whispered Ernest’s name.

Ato panicked. "It knows you!"

Chapter 21: The Stolen Power

Inside the vault, floating orbs pulsed with stolen abilities. Ernest reached for one—and a vision struck: A boy, screaming as his eyes were ripped out.

Ato’s voice cracked. "That… was me."

Chapter 22: The Traitor Among Them

As they fled, Believe reappeared—now in a Society uniform. "They promised to fix my sister," he pleaded. "I didn’t know they’d—"

Ernest’s fist connected before he could think.

Chapter 23: The Fall of Adinkraland

The Society razed the hidden city. Ato screamed as his people were dragged away. "This is your fault!" he spat at Ernest.

The pendant shattered completely.

Chapter 24: The Split

Ato vanished into the smoke. Ernest stood alone, clutching the stolen orb. Its power slithered into his veins.

"Now you’re a thief too," whispered the shadow-lock’s voice.

Chapter 25: The New Enemy

The orb’s original owner, Efia, tracked Ernest. Her hands burned with blue fire. "That power isn’t yours," she seethed.

Ernest tried to return it—but the orb fused to his palm.

Chapter 26: The Bargain Revisited

Nii Okai returned, offering a cure: "A witch in Amedzofe can sever the bond. But she’ll demand a price."

Ernest’s stomach churned. What’s worse—the curse or the cost?

Chapter 27: The Mountain of Voices

The witch, Mawu, lived inside a talking mountain. "Ah, the boy who steals," she crooned. "I’ll help… if you bring me the Society’s First Book."

Ernest paled. The one guarded by the Shadow-Lock.

Chapter 28: The Reunion

Ato ambushed them on the trail, gaunt and furious. "You owe me," he growled. "Help me free my people, or I’ll drag you to the Society myself."

Ernest had no choice.

Chapter 29: The Plan

They’d strike during the Festival of Masks, when Society elites gathered. "We free the prisoners, grab the Book, and run," Ato said.

Efia crossed her arms. "And when the shadow-lock kills us?"

Ernest flexed his glowing hand. "Let it try."

Chapter 30: The Storm Breaks

As fireworks lit the sky, Ernest faced the vault again. The shadow-lock grinned. "Welcome home."

This time, Ernest stepped forward—and let it swallow him whole.

Chapter 31: The Shadow’s Embrace

The vault’s darkness swallowed Ernest whole—but instead of pain, he felt awakening.

Voices whispered:

"You are more than they told you."

"You were never just a boy."

When Ernest opened his eyes, the shadow-lock knelt before him.

Chapter 32: The First Book’s Secret

The First Book wasn’t paper and ink—it was alive, bound in human skin and whispering in a dead language.

Mawu the witch hissed, "It speaks of you, Ernest. The ‘Hollow Child’ who drinks the world."

Ernest’s stolen orb pulsed in agreement.

Chapter 33: The Society’s Origin

Ato deciphered the Book’s horrors: centuries ago, the Society’s founders were ordinary men who stole magic from a god. Their first victim? Anansi the Trickster, whose laughter still echoed in the vault’s walls.

"They’re not hunters," Ato realized. "They’re thieves."

Chapter 34: The Hollowing Begins

Ernest’s body rejected the fused orb—veins blackening, skin flaking like old paint. Efia tried to burn the corruption out, but the flames fed it instead.

"You’re becoming like them," she accused. "A thief of power."

Chapter 35: The Rebellion Rises

News spread: Ernest had survived the shadow-lock. Gifts hidden across Ghana stirred.

A one-armed girl who controlled storms arrived first. "They call me Sika," she said. "Let’s burn their castles down."

Chapter 36: The Siege of Elmina

They attacked Elmina Castle at dawn. Ernest shattered the gates with a thought—but the Society was ready.

Their leader, Ohene Nyarko, stepped forward, holding a chain attached to… Auntie Yaa.

"Yield," he said, "or she dies again."

Chapter 37: The Bitter Truth

Auntie Yaa smiled sadly. "Ernest, I was never real. Just a memory they trapped to control you."

Before Ernest could react, she dissolved into smoke.

Nyarko laughed. "All your heroes are ghosts."

Chapter 38: The God’s Whisper

Anansi’s voice slithered into Ernest’s mind:

"Break the Book, child. Break it, and I’ll give you real power."

Ernest hesitated. "What’s the price?"

The god’s chuckle rattled his bones.

Chapter 39: The Fracture

Ernest tore the First Book in half.

The world screamed.

Anansi’s laughter filled the sky as every Society member clutched their heads—their stolen powers ripped away.

Chapter 40: The Cost

Ernest collapsed, his body turning to stone from the feet up. Ato screamed, "You fool! Anansi tricked you!"

The last thing Ernest saw before petrifying: Efia’s tears hitting his stone hands.

Chapter 41: The Stone Dream

Trapped in darkness, Ernest spoke to the shadow-lock—now free.

"You’re not my prison," it said. "You’re my home. The Society made me to hold power… but you are power."

Ernest understood too late: He was the vault all along.

Chapter 42: The Witch’s Gambit

Mawu bargained with Anansi: "Free the boy, or I’ll bury your stories in salt."

The Trickster sighed. "Fine. But he won’t like what wakes up with him."

Chapter 43: The Second Awakening

Ernest burst from his stone shell—changed.

His shadow moved on its own.

The stolen orb was gone.

And his voice… wasn’t just his anymore.

Chapter 44: The New War

The freed gifts turned on each other. Sika’s storms clashed with a boy who could grow thorns from his flesh.

"We’re becoming what we hated," Ato realized.

Chapter 45: The Society’s Last Weapon

Nyarko unleashed the Silent Ones—children whose gifts were silenced into obedience. They moved as one, their hollow eyes fixed on Ernest.

Chapter 46: The Hollow King

Ernest’s shadow stretched, swallowing the Silent Ones whole. Their powers flooded into him—and he remembered their names.

"They’re not weapons," he roared. "They’re children!"

Chapter 47: The Choice

Anansi appeared, grinning. "Now you see. You can rule this chaos… or end it."

Ernest looked at his hands—one human, one shadow.

"I’ll break the cycle."

Chapter 48: The Unmaking

Ernest tore the shadow from his body and threw it into the sky. It exploded into a thousand shards, raining down as…

Stories.

Every stolen power returned to its rightful owner.

Chapter 49: The Aftermath

Ghana was forever changed. Some gifts faded; others flourished. The Society collapsed, but its poison lingered in whispers.

And Ernest?

He was ordinary now.

(Or so he let them think.)

Chapter 50: The Boy Who Still Can

In a quiet village, a girl lifted a rock with her mind for the first time. Ernest, now a wandering teacher, smiled.

"Like this," he said, guiding her hands—his own faintly glowing.

Some gifts never truly leave.

The end 

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Bad friend

By Believe Livingstone DAGBEY

A snake in grass, you slithered in,

Disguising deceit with a friendly grin,

Poisoning trust with venomous lies,

Leaving scars that never demise.

Like autumn leaves, our bond withered away,

Fading memories of brighter days,

Your betrayal stung like a hornet's bite,

Painful memories, an endless fight.

You wore a mask of camaraderie,

Concealing envy's dark symmetry,

A wolf in sheep's clothing, you deceived,

Shattering bonds, our friendship bereaved.

Like shattered glass, our trust was broken,

Reflecting shards of hearts unspoken,

Your absence echoes, a hollow sound,

A silence that speaks volumes unbound.

Moral Lessons:

1. Toxic relationships: Bad friendships harm.

2. Deception: Hidden agendas destroy trust.

3. Loyalty: True friends stand by, through thick and thin.

Simile:

- "A snake in grass"

- "Like autumn leaves"

- "Like shattered glass"

These similes compare bad friendships to hidden dangers, fading beauty, and broken trust.

Metaphor:

- "You wore a mask of camaraderie"

This metaphor equates false friendship to a disguise.

Alliteration:

- "Slithered in"

- "Shattered sound"

- "Silence speaks"

Alliteration adds rhythm.

Onomatopoeia:

- "Stung" (hornet's bite)

- "Echoes" (emptiness)

Onomatopoeia imitates sounds.

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🎤 In His Appointed Time

🎤 In His Appointed Time

        By Lilbed Wordweave

Some people receive their portion in the morning,

When the earth is still fresh and the skies are open.

When favor pours like rain upon new soil,

And their name is called early in the day.

Some people receive theirs in the afternoon,

When the sun is high and the world is watching.

Their path is revealed before many eyes,

And their blessing finds them in the heat of life’s race.

Others receive theirs in the quiet of the evening,

When the crowd has thinned and the light is soft.

Their joy does not arrive with noise,

But it settles like peace over a weary soul.

And then, there are those whose portion comes at midnight -

In the hour of silence,

When even hope sleeps,

When men have given up,

And dreams are wrapped in shadows.

It is then that God moves in secret,

Whispering miracles no man can explain.

We are different.

We were never meant to be the same.

We were not created to become what we merely wanted to be.

We were born by divine intention,

Breathed into existence by a God who sees beyond our timing.

As nature birthed us into being,

So were we released into different time zones of glory.

One may rise early,

Another may wait long,

But all shall rise in their appointed hour.

Therefore, do not envy another’s morning.

Do not curse your midnight.

Do not measure your journey with the ruler of men.

For what God has ordained for you,

Shall not pass you by.

It shall come,

Fully dressed in His glory,

And it shall come right on time.

Wait well.

Pray deep.

Stand firm.

Believe still.

Because your time -

Your time shall surely come.

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💌 My Sweetest Blessing,

💌 My Sweetest Blessing,

If loving you was a prayer, I would be speaking in tongues every second. 😘

You’re my daily bread, babe—except you don’t expire, and I never get full.

When God said “It is not good for man to be alone,” He already had you in mind for me. He just took His time crafting an angel with hips, sass, and a laugh that slays demons. 😅

You're not just my heart; you’re my Psalms when I’m down, my Proverbs when I need wisdom, and my Song of Songs when I’m feeling romantic (and slightly holy-naughty 😏.

You bring peace louder than storms, and joy deeper than a Sunday worship.

Even the devil’s jealous of how happy I am with you—and honestly, he should be. 🤭

        Your Lilbed King 👑 👑 

So here’s my vow again: I’ll love you like Christ loves the Church…

Sacrificially, unconditionally, and with a smile that says, “This woman is fearfully and wonderfully mine.”

Forever your prayer warrior and cuddle partner,

      Your Lilbed King 💍👑

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💌 My Sweetest Blessing,

💌 My Sweetest Blessing,

If loving you was a prayer, I would be speaking in tongues every second. 😘

You’re my daily bread, babe—except you don’t expire, and I never get full.

When God said “It is not good for man to be alone,” He already had you in mind for me. He just took His time crafting an angel with hips, sass, and a laugh that slays demons. 😅

You're not just my heart; you’re my Psalms when I’m down, my Proverbs when I need wisdom, and my Song of Songs when I’m feeling romantic (and slightly holy-naughty 😏.

You bring peace louder than storms, and joy deeper than a Sunday worship.

Even the devil’s jealous of how happy I am with you—and honestly, he should be. 🤭

So here’s my vow again: I’ll love you like Christ loves the Church…

Sacrificially, unconditionally, and with a smile that says, “This woman is fearfully and wonderfully mine.”

Forever your prayer warrior and cuddle partner,

      Your Lilbed King 💍👑

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The lady Who Would Not Give Up

"The Woman Who Would Not Give Up 

     

 – A Story for Elorm Abigail Klu"

There once was a woman, handpicked by God—not for comfort, but for a calling. Her name was Elorm Abigail Klu.

Life didn’t unfold easily for her. The road was not always smooth, and the skies weren’t always clear. But she had something most didn’t: a quiet strength, a sacred determination, and a heart anchored in faith.

She fell sometimes—yes—but never without getting up. She cried, but never without praying. And every time the world tried to dim her light, she reminded it that her fire wasn’t manmade—it was divinely lit.

She walked with the burden of dreams too big for her shoulders, but the God who gave her the vision also gave her the strength. She didn’t ask for the easy path. She asked for the grace to finish. And every day, she showed up—not because life was fair, but because God was faithful.

People often wondered where her strength came from. They didn’t know she had been shaped in secret places—on her knees, in her prayers, in her late-night tears. She had wrestled with self-doubt, but God always whispered, “Daughter, I am with you.”

One day, she will stand on the mountain of her answered prayers. She will hold the fruit of her perseverance and say, “It was worth it.”

The seeds she’s sowing now—in hard work, in faith, in quiet obedience—will grow into a harvest she can’t even imagine.

To Elorm: keep going. Your efforts are not in vain. Your story is not forgotten. God is writing something beautiful with your life.

Don’t rush the process. The same God who began this good work in you will surely bring it to completion.

Your crown is being shaped in the shadows. And when it’s time, the world will see what heaven already knows:

You are more than a conqueror.

You are chosen, called, and crowned by grace.

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Happy Birthday, Mr. Yaw Pee Yaw! 🎉

🎉 Happy Birthday, Mr. Yaw Pee Yaw! 🎉

Today, I celebrate a man who has become a true facilitator of greatness in my life. You are not just someone who speaks—you transform. Your words carry power, your actions reflect love, and your presence brings clarity and direction.

You have given to me—not just in gifts, but in mindset, in vision, and in confidence. You’ve helped me see that life can be easier, better, and more purposeful when guided by wisdom and the right mindset. You’ve opened my eyes to possibilities I never saw before.

Your kindness and generosity are unmatched. You’ve touched my life in ways that words can’t fully explain. Because of you, I now believe more in who I am and in what I can become.

As you mark this special day, I pray that the seeds you’ve sown into lives—including mine—will come back to you in joy, abundance, and divine favor.

Happy birthday once again, sir.

With deep gratitude,

– Lilbed

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Amedzofe Is Calling — But Can Anyone Hear?”

📰 “Amedzofe Is Calling — But Can Anyone Hear?”

In the cool, mist-kissed heights of Amedzofe, a town known for its natural beauty and academic heritage, students sit with smartphones in the air, searching for that one elusive bar of signal. Some stretch phones out of their windows. Others climb small hills or walk to nearby roadsides, just to send a text.

This isn’t the past — it’s the present reality for many living in Amedzofe, home to the historic Evangelical Presbyterian College of Education (AMECO).

📚 A College on a Hill, Struggling to Connect

AMECO, founded in 1946, has produced thousands of professional teachers for Ghana. It stands proudly as one of the oldest teacher-training institutions in the country. Its mission has always been to enlighten minds — but now, the challenge is getting connected minds online.

> “On campus, there’s a small pocket of signal,” says Rita, a student in her final year. “It’s not strong, but it’s something. But once you step off campus — especially in town or in areas like Two-Two, it's a different story. No signal at all.”

Students in off-campus hostels like “Two-Two” struggle daily with dropped calls, undelivered messages, and failed transactions. In urgent times, some must travel outside town just to access stable network service.

> “I called Godsway many times,” says one frustrated student, “but the call wouldn’t go through unless he left his room and went to stand somewhere far away. It’s distracting and stressful that you can’t even be in your comfort zone to make a simple call.”

🔇 A Town Left in Silence

The challenge goes beyond students. The entire Amedzofe township suffers from weak or non-existent mobile network coverage.

Parents cannot reach their children.

Teachers struggle with digital resources.

Residents miss out on mobile money services.

Emergency calls are nearly impossible.

> “We are not asking for too much,” says Mr. Dela, a local shop owner. “Just give us what others in the cities have — a simple, stable connection.”

📡 Digital Ghana Cannot Leave Amedzofe Behind

It is ironic that a town known for producing education, discipline, and leaders is now lagging in basic connectivity. In a time when Ghana is pushing forward with digital inclusion, it is unfair that some communities remain completely disconnected.

We call on:

The Ministry of Communication and Digitalisation

The National Communications Authority (NCA)

Telecom companies like MTN, Vodafone, and AirtelTigo

Install proper masts. Improve reception. Extend coverage. We want Amedzofe to be part of Ghana’s digital future, not left behind in its beautiful silence.

🗣️ Final Words: Let This Cry Be Heard

Students, teachers, market women, and parents are all raising one voice: we need better network. Not just on campus, but in the town. Not just for students, but for the entire community.

Amedzofe is calling — will the nation hear?

> “If we can be seen from the mountain top,” says a student, “why can’t we be heard?”

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SHE WALKS THE MAZE LIKE A QUEEN

SHE WALKS THE MAZE LIKE A QUEEN

By Obed Yadzo

Co-founder of Lilbed Wordweave

There are some people the world tries to silence—but the ink in their bones refuses to dry.

Adja Lilian is one of them.

I met her not with thunder or trumpet, but with something rarer: silence that carried wisdom, and a presence that whispered, "Watch me write what others fear to say." She was not just born with a pen in her hand—she was born with a mission etched in her soul.

Together, we built Lilbed Wordweave, not just as a name but as a heartbeat. A movement. A living, breathing echo of the words that live in the margins of pain and purpose.

When we co-wrote The Perilous Maze, it wasn’t just storytelling—it was survival. It was liberation in stanzas. It was fire disguised as metaphors. And within every chapter, Lilian did what most cannot:

She told the truth, and made it beautiful.

She Is Not a Writer. She Is a Force.

Where most see walls, Lilian sees windows.

Where most run from their scars, she sketches poetry out of them.

She’s the kind of girl who doesn't just enter the storm—

She documents it

...so others can survive theirs.

Every blog we’ve written together, every whisper turned into verse, carried her fingerprints—delicate but defiant. Her words don’t ask for attention; they demand remembrance.

She is the Lilbed Queen not because we crowned her,

but because she birthed the crown through resilience.

More Than Her Pen

Beyond the blog, beyond the book, beyond the name—Adja Lilian is a sister of strength. A builder. A listener. A quiet revolution wrapped in calm eyes.

To watch her write is to watch healing unfold. To hear her speak is to hear truth walk with elegance.

She doesn’t speak for attention. She speaks so the broken won’t break alone.

So Let the World Know

Let every library know her name.

Let every reader pause on her paragraph and feel the weight of her honesty.

Because Adja Lilian is not just an author—she is a movement in motion, a voice in the wilderness, and a queen in a maze that tried to confuse her—but never could contain her.

From Lilbed Wordweave to the world:

She came to write. She stayed to awaken.

And we are better because of her.

 BY Lilbed Wordweave 

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We Live Differently (Full Version)

We Live Differently (Full Version)

We are all living—moving toward a future we believe in, a future we claim as ours.

Yet the paths we take are not the same.

Some reach their destination quickly, others slowly.

Even when we aim for the same thing, we approach it with different minds, different thoughts, different ways.

How I live my life, how I understand it, how I move through it—is not the same as how you do.

That’s why we are not the same.

We are not meant to be.

Our thoughts are built on different foundations, shaped by experience, pain, joy, and dreams.

We gather around life, not as one mold, but as many lenses observing the same scene.

So you can't be like me.

I can't be like you.

And that’s okay.

Still, we strive for a future that hasn’t yet arrived—a tomorrow we keep chasing together.

But it’s always just ahead, never fully in our hands.

That struggle makes us human.

And it also makes us different.

That’s why we must move through life with empathy, not just sympathy.

We must stop judging others based on what we think is right.

Life isn’t just about how we see things—it’s about understanding the reality of others too.

We’re not just living our own stories; we’re responding to decisions, histories, and unseen battles.

So before you judge, feel.

Before you speak, consider.

Life is not a straight line.

It is a web of paths and turns.

How someone sees life—how someone survives—isn’t for us to blame or correct.

It’s for us to understand.

The Christian man sees God differently than you do.

I see God differently than you see God.

I worship God differently than you worship God.

On the same religious base—or even a different one—

We see the same God through different ways.

On the same path of life, we are all moving, but my story is different from yours.

Still, it is a collection of life that makes it whole.

Blood flows. Water moves through the body.

Mindsets shift and grow.

We see God differently.

We are not what we are because of what’s common between us.

We are what we are because of what defines us—individually.

We are just people trying to understand the grace in our breath,

The mercy in our moments,

The truth in our trials.

It’s grace upon grace in this world we live in.

And still, we say, “Tomorrow is coming.”

Yet tomorrow never comes the way we think it will.

Still, we wait. We hope. We move.

Because we live differently,

But we all live.

So when you are judging the case of life,

When you are defining truth,

When you're analyzing or synthesizing the will of this world—

Don’t just look at it from your own eyes.

No, go deeper.

Try to understand.

Because how I see things—you don’t.

How I define God—you may never.

How I explain these matters—you may not be able to.

We are different—and if you are, and I am—

Then we must accept:

We may be facing the same direction,

But our minds are shaped by different lights.

We want the same result,

But we are using different ways.

We are not just the people we think we are.

We are more than what we appear to be.

We are seeing life through different truths and different wounds.

So don’t try to make someone be like you.

You can’t choose someone to be your mirror.

And you can never stand on someone to become yourself.

It’s just like how we all go to school—

We want the same path in life,

But some pass with A’s, some with B’s, some with C’s.

That’s how life grades us—not equally, but individually.

Life grades us by performance, by effort, by journey.

No one is idle.

I see it differently, and I work toward it differently.

That’s how my mind is wired.

There’s no standing firm without first collecting ability,

No strength without seeking knowledge.

We grow by learning—again and again, together.

It is like farmers on their fields.

Each one aims to harvest,

But some weed wide, some sow deep,

Some add hot fertilizers,

Others trust nature’s rhythm.

But all of them want the fruit.

They just take different roads to get there.

That is what I mean.

People are always looking for ways—different ways—to make it.

To survive.

To earn.

To live.

And there is no way to stand without first choosing to understand.

        By OY

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We Are Not Meant to Be Free

We Are Not Meant to Be Free

 I don’t know why people say they’re busy as if being busy is a choice. 

We’re meant to be busy.

 Life is business.

 Life is survival. 

 No one is supposed to be free ,not fully, not until death steals our motion.

 We are here to keep moving, to keep surviving. 

Freedom? 

That’s not the mission. 

Survival is. 

 There’s no perfect system waiting for us. No ideal space where we rest endlessly. Only motion, only effort, only the grind of putting things together while everything else keeps moving. 

 Don’t tell me you’re waiting to be free before you act. 

You move while the storm is raging.

 You fix the ship while sailing. 

That’s the code. 

 Yes, rest is part of the rhythm, but even that—sleep, a break—is brief.

 Leisure is a comma, not a period. 

We are not meant to live in pause.

 So the next time someone says, “I’m busy,” understand: That’s the point.

 We all are. We all have to be. 

Because the only time we’re truly free is when we’re asleep— or gone.

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Why Lilbed

Lilbed is a wave of emotional writing that blends motivation, spoken word, and truth with power. Noun- Meaning: Pure services or Servant #Dictionary #University of Oxford

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HEPSS

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