The voice of the Oracle has Returned.

The oracle rises, robed in flame,

The pulpit echoes a truth untamed,

The winds of justice now uncoil,

A nation groans beneath the soil.

Ancient tongues have found their place,

To challenge shadows in high space,

A whisper loud, a thunder deep,

For hearts that wake while others sleep.

Where is the crown that bears the weight,

Of voices silenced by the state?

Our streets are swept by foreign hands,

Ghosts that haunt these battered lands.

Citizens vanish, night consumes,

The air is choked with heavy fumes,

Yet silence from the throne remains,

A barren echo — empty reigns.

Sellout echoes in the halls,

The gilded chair no longer calls,

For duty bound by sacred oath,

A leader's word, a nation’s growth.

Instead, defiance dressed in pride,

The voice of people cast aside,

The mirror cracks — who shall reflect?

When power’s face forgets respect.

Sovereignty like misty morn,

A flag now torn, a people worn.

The stranger's boots imprint the ground,

Yet justice sleeps without a sound.

Does gold now shine more than the tears,

Of mothers’ cries or fathers’ fears?

A question blooms beneath the dust,

Can we survive this broken trust?

The oracle chants, the clergy speaks,

In riddles, warnings — words of peaks.

The burning truth like molten ore,

Falls on ears who choose to snore.

A shepherd blind to his own flock,

Guides them to the waiting dock,

Where ships of fate sail into night,

And vanish from the watchful light.

Who answers when the people call,

When echoes crash against the wall?

No throne, no crown, nor golden ring,

Can hush the storm the winds now bring.

The oracle's voice will rise once more,

Unveiling truths that rulers ignore.

For silence, brittle, soon shall break,

When tides of justice start to wake.

Let the echoes pierce the clouds,

Let the truth unshroud the shrouds.

The oracle’s fire will not be tamed,

Until the guilty are rightly named.

The chains of silence melt away,

As prophets in the light will stay,

A voice reclaimed, a path revealed,

When nations heal, and wounds are sealed.

Oh, let the oracle sing once more,

Across the plains, from shore to shore.

For power fades, but truth remains,

Stronger than a ruler’s chains.

A reckoning shall surely rise,

Beneath the vast and watchful skies,

And from the dust, a voice will ring —

To sovereign hope, the people cling.

© Bunguswa ™