by Symolean
Woke up this morning with a lot of things

preoccupying my mind. Already fixed on getting

them done even when to thousands, it's the most

useless venture any being with sanity could think

of but it has taken the most prominent place

deep within me.

I stood miles into my quest and just like Lot's

wife looked behind my shoulders and saw almost

fading with the horizon the flag I pulled down this

morning and the new one I raised before leaving

that has DANGER boldly written on it. It is

gradually turning into more than I could take,

seeing what I spent years building turn into a ruin

by my very hands. Gbagagba was with them

shouting out of disappointments and anger over

what I've done. They were my allies, they knew

every bit of what it took me to raise that flag that

is now lying hopelessly on the ground, seeking

and at the same time getting the attention of

those who had envied me courtesy of it. They

would Love to raise that flag but the rule still

remains that am the only one that is qualified to

bring it up again.

I can vividly remember those days when to have a

flag of your own was more than an honour; it

was worth dying for, many went into modern

slavery just to own one because it offered an

opportunity for you to mix up with the dreaded,

those that called spades spades without fear of

what might happen. You will drink from the table

of those that enjoyed total freedom that life offers

without caution, those that think of God only as a

philosophical concept. The flag could place you at

the corridor of power.

I can picture how I paid my tribute to Gbagagba

himself that day in the chambers of Oniga, the

flag designer. He had taken care and embroidered

my thought and name, Symolean on the cloth

material I presented to him weeks ago. My

missions he represented in totality that Gbagagba

lost his ability to hide his feelings and said," you

did a nice job", even with his eyes still fixed on

my flag. Oniga couldn't believe that this little

handiwork of his could attracted such a massive

endearment to him even to the extent that....

I have lived with pride over my accomplishments,

over how the flag had been a referential point to

what a flag should be-- they more often than not

refer to it as the Symolean's.

But this thought that overwhelmed me, causing

me to cast down my most valued asset is what I

just can't explain. How could I put my whole life

effort to waste without anything substantial?

I must have gone mad to allow such a thing to


I could hear their voices in my head demanding

explanation for my thoughtless mocking of the

source of glory I enjoy. It would be more tolerable

if I had bequeathed it to someone, even a

fledgling. But I've decided my path now. I'll never

let my cravings disgrace my decision. [Remains

me: Symolean]
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