Frankly Dedoyin

No human disaster  Gives up its true evil nature  Till a more powerful thing that roars  And truly do bite  Match its potent spells.   Everyone sees the seed growing,  Eye, limbs, brain forming  But none is gallant  To hack the monster while it is still an innocent baby-thing.  Like the proverbial child of the beautiful spotted beast,  It is nurtured Left to live free amongst men They hope it would die when the time comes, Before them, Yet it has outlived all who first beheld its birth.

I wish I could create a program with special algorithms, features in specific local lingo to predict the actions of men before a crime is committed.  Since the greatest weapon is information, I'd like to learn what it takes to get such power and one especially - that creates a mugshot of potential criminals before they get sworn in.  The eye of God: the ray of justice spread across the Earth on behalf of the voiceless and enslaved.  Intelligence to demystified what seems like an impervious thread of corruption.  To separate piece-by-piece every atom of greed before it grow into something radioactive.  To torch these slithering medusan-serpents as endemic as they are.  Intelligence that sees indiscriminately from the hilltop of the street to the tabernacle.  The eye of God: Power that supersedes the evasive nature of the cabals while they permeates every little square inch of the societal fabric.  The eye of God: The ultimate code that bypasses the cheap clinches and empty promises,

 THE MAGNIFICENT WIND In awe of creation As the magnificent wind. The earth and water may own magnanimous But the wind trumps them deftly. in its palms, holds invisible wisp of life Raises all life forms The trees, the great beasts and the deadliest virus In its shawl, it gives wings to the feeble Safe from the terrible. The wind is a sentinel Working at the silent command of a great general The hand of God protecting his creation From the glowing streams of brass bullets   Encircling in the days of tribulation. The wind has ears It carries the cries of starving babies Across the miles from obscure poverty-ridden capitals To the ends of the world. It bears witness to the sobs of the abused The sighs of the frustrated The prayer of an endangered disciple - Spending adulations on Him. The wind has a eye It sees into the soul of darkness And brings forth the hidden secrets  As we see at dawn. The wind plays melo music  Sometimes it draws on the order of many voices Crystallize the stench