"This time, like all times, is a good time, if we but know what to do with it."
_______ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Throughout the first half of 2006, with strictly inevitable intellectual and birth-remembrance outpours {for every fourteenth of February is my birthday!}, I glued my mouth to speechlessness at afromerica.com and replaced my noble elocution with silence at Nigeriaworld.com and at the twenty eight electronic for a I belong, either as a stake holder or ordinary member, to weather the storms that mortally attempted to shake my humane purpose to death.

Today, the storms may not be over, but the hovering, the deadly probability that it could immediately be offered the location of my grandest dream was successfully vandalized. As these obstacles labor to get my bearing, I strategize to discombobulate their effrontery.

All through the break I gave my self as a constant public commentator, other tasks had made my days as a teacher of the English Language and Literature-in-English to classes bound for Nigerian, Canadian, British and American Universities, and as an addicted thinker of global good. As I approach my grave by adding more to earth-years, may I always be better at good doing.

A maledictory benediction and macabre balderdash it would turn if I fail to bail myself from the sagging psychological suitcases that greeted the awe and humility that I belong here in the mighty midst of minds that humanely and intellectually lord it over our oval Agora hosted by Africa, Australia, North America, Asia and Europe. As I prepared to resume writing, my tsunamised heart sticked to the profoundness of my emptiness. The mind drinks more of knowledge when its owner acknowledges no complacency.

As an irony of fortune, which it represents for me, this is not the first time kind destroyable and humane organizations had deliberately skipped my fallibility to entrust tedious tasks upon my limitlessly limited scholarship. I therefore wondered if sophisticated guilessness forms the nucleus of the knowledge that must be present in all that my kind publishers and rational readers love.

But, the spirit behind every invitation to write, which, which, more often that not, was compelled by my unbeatable strive to tell humanity all that I knew would assist her plight was culturally a proton propelling the unpleasantness of unplumeting electron in the noble constitution of every little but constructive atom of my mental sanity or insanity; for a truly sane man cannot always lay claim to sanity.

In the history of reforming writing or rhetoric, scholars? Willingness is a greater requirement than their skills. Willingness wombs weaknesses in seriousness; the willing sage destroys moral and intellectual fauxpas. The unwilling oracle, even if more skillful than skills itself, fry, wry and waste the essence of great gatherings and media, regardless of his or her learning. Consistency sharpens ineptitude into proficiency.

The exodus of our sociology as a race allots kudos to the extra-ordinary services rendered by the serene cerebrums of eminent men of pure percipience and blue stockings of great guile with whom, by share bonanza from erratic fate, I share an invisible but well-dressed table to demurely voice my samaformistic thoughts on all possible themes of existence and fill my life's vacuum with honor and greatness which infinite investment in the facilitation of visionary inspirations and facts for all of mankind is bound to bring. May the stories of man's survival and fulfillment never depart my lips; and if this path is your choice, you who read my words, may you also live long in the service of humanity, Amen!

My neurons perceived no fun in the existence of the last dawn, so its death murdered no cell in my heart's shell. This was not because it imported little bliss, but because our world's social Sauls authored more sores with the pots of our scarce fun. So, happy I was in that season's ending, not that man's delusive concept of time served any outlet for a three hundred and sixty five day old hopelessness, but that that delusion delegated our collectivism in more and spiritual junks, and filled our longing vacuity with fresh vanity through our fine positivity.

Given my uncertainty about time's mortality by, I did harbor some fear that nothing changes about it, that ages had erred in timeless illusion, that humanity had enrolled its salvaging structures in renewable filth and seethe. As I promised while at the tail of the last calendaring era in my Afromerica.com published? Before The Year Ends? I read the words of Charles Dickson as an oration for the deceased morals and progressive people of 2005.

As the obsequy rites continues throughout the one hundred and ninety-three countries of our planet, harmless atoms of deafening tranquility flew in disgusting disguise in both simple and complex knock-outs, exploding into a magnificent magnitude of noise to tear off the drums of several ears and propagated aches in our heads and hearts. ? Must this dreary dawn die with vital organs that make the lives of its human successors active and purposeful?? I rhetorically enquire in my utterly intractable bewilderment.

Alas! It was worse than this: from the twentieth of December 2005, a great number of destroyable fellows, mostly the rejected and the dejected, the oppressed and the depressed, dancing on the grave of the old dawn, had put off, with strangely strange excitement, like snakes their serrating outward membranes in readiness for a whole brand days their tormentors? Hobby for renewable misfortune, and their passive passion for transforming actions had empty really altered into unalterable unchangeability.

Through indiscriminate, discretion-devoid jubilation and celebration, mankind places herself in the hot seat to deal with hot potatoes, using the Christmas festive eve and the Hogmanay as purposelessly undefinitive reunion with unrepentant life's factors, sensible earthlings had joined renowned hobgoblins in morally prostituting hobnobbing. I hobbled in that seasonal charade, conducting my contumelious consciousness along the deranged reasoning of our genuinely ungeneal generality, meditating in deep sobriety, of personal and collective blunders, neglecting the esoteric passage of the inconsiderate time that bonded me by all means?

In the nearest tomorrow? I concernedly muttered, ?some mortals must knock sense into the earth and earthlings whose vision is to impede all sense.? Like Shakespearean Macbeth, my thoughts, though cutely unmacbethian, had lulled me to sleeplessness.

The following day, the 2005 senility hijacked earth's adventurous vivacity. While In my mother's spiritually reverent bed, soaked in limitless confoundment, I suspected it was a hundred and eighty seconds to the next year's maidenhood. So, following the culture that nurtured me into adulthood, I quickly swept off along the running time, all encounters that enslaved my body, mental and spiritual health from the moments of birth.

I stood on my weak but determined kneels in my mother's elevated mat, to declare as detrops, and may the heavens rise to their roles and render these irrelevant to my happiness, people and places, who, which in my truly trusting spirits and loving heart, I had abandoned my worries for while styling myself an inevitable digits in the clumsy sequence of their life's series, had baselessly hurt my feelings and murdered my projects, both in the way they wrecklessly handled their lives and heartlessly treated my concerns.

This assumed new time, may those qualities and resources I saw in enemy-friends and conservative progressives dry up in my liberated perception and resurrect in other humans I shall meet and in other places I shall know. May pundits plaudits pullulate my shame and chart me a new course for prettier personal and collective agenda. May I find new friends, though it be the renewal of my old allies and pals, whose love shall be loving enough to correct me when I am wrong, with the fine sentiment to commend me when I am right.

May those who love me never hate to hate if their rebuke bails my morals out of mire. May those hate my all never detest the honor planted in the nobility of falling in love with global good. May those who belong to the family of man with greater regards for matter than for conscience decrease in influence, and may the light of my moral vision, through samaformism, glitter eternally on earth. In all may I forever be worthy of my fine friends and loyalists, humanitarian avocation and never soar in reproach while samaformism stays awake, Amen!

The eternal purpose of samaformism, the newest and the most humane socio-economic, political and philosophical theory on earth was necessitated by, and shall remain relevant as long as humanism and collectivism live in the territories of frequent failure fostered by blunderous bias, from the influence of in altruism, tribalism, racism, recidivism, sectionalism and unkind exploitation and extreme inhumanity to our entire humanity. The comedy in the flight of time lies in the reversible irreversibility it places before man; the tragedy in the passage of years consists in the wastage of our desires as unsamaformised mortals.

All that I had stood against remains the sturdy strands of fibres with which I weave my 2006 Agenda Sac. For history's fulfillment and as a sort of blue-print for Sacrosanct Mankind Forward Movement (www. Africaservice.com/samaform) in the noble trade of inspiring generations whose minds may hang in vacuous longing for universally salutary ends, I state again that every of my word and way, silence and constancy belong to the salvation of the human family.

Through this, I hate the selfish and abhor the cruel; my traits and weights disregard prejudice and endorse universal kindness. The picture of earth SAMAFORM and Earthbuilders Newspaper seek is one with moral bliss and social peace. In tomorrow humanity, none shall die in the caustic care of inhospitality, indignity, ignobility, hunger and distress, my finest wish!!!

This year, I hope to advance myself in greater knowledge, covering more spheres of all mental quests possible for mortals of any era. This year, I intend to improve on my morals, and relationships with others. I shall work more passionately for the realization of my vision, the manumission of this, and coming generations from the filth of greed and graft, and from the reach of hate and hurt.

I shall speak more against evil in Nigeria while planning relieves for affected fellows. I shall contribute more to the restoration of African values, comforts and pride in the scheme of global things without seeming inhuman to other continents of our fine planet. I shall promote one humanity. I shall campaign for the prominence of Earth State. Through samaformism, more humane school of thoughts shall be made to dominate the collective horizon of man's mind.

I pledge deeper loyalty to friends and factors, religions and regions, societies and ideas, who, or which work for the survival of all earthlings. I give to the truly unbiased, the considerate and the principled, the best space in the glorious heart chambers of Samaformism, for they to are Samaformists. And tomorrow, when the tides of vanity sweep key members, or I, as the founder of SAMAFORM dwell in the land of the dead, the world must always remind the group of the noble purpose of its creation which one of loved poems? Letter to SAMAFORM? Best conveys:

© June 2006 By Olawale Oyewumi
Afromerica staff writer

Brother Olawale Oyewumi will be keeping the Black community updated on Education And General World Development. Visit regularly for new information that could help you overcome and make the best of your everyday experiences.

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