In An Egg


Life sits still in its ship,
And only when storms beat,
Does disfigured its shape get,
Life sits still, always, in its ship.


Inside the ship's belly, life is confined,
Detached from earthly toil and tears,
Starved of earth's leisures and joys,
Inside the ship's belly, growing, life is confined.


Life sits still in its ship,
Inside the ships belly, life is confined.

Gerry Sikazwe

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