Nɔviwo Poem by Doris Dzameshie

In the pre-dawn of time, one Soul—Nɔviwo
Snapped like a lightning rod and splintered so,
Into a thousand star-split fragments wrapped in mesh,
Each fractal winked alive, elbowing space afresh,
To book its own debut on history's tableau.

One wears a tie and whispers corporate grace,
Another bangs a drum in Notsie's echoing ecstasy,
Yet one more scrolls memes at the edge of night
All claiming, "I am the heir of Eden's light, "
While steeping cosmic tea with solemn face.

Meanwhile, the Oversoul, overbooked and crabby,
Nibbles sogɔkɔ in silence, feeling quite scrawny,
Pondering if any fragment still knows the Garden's code,
Digital regalia stitched in ancestral mode,
Shouting hashtags for lost perfection—not shabby.

When they all flop home—suitcases full of selfies,
Each proclaims, "I found myself at last! "
And Nɔviwo, seated in his solitary shell,
Blinks at the chaos, thinking, ‘Well… at least they hashtagged the exile quite well.
Muttering, "I must've designed some prism-born selfies."

So let every fractal keep their absurd parade,
For only in this cosmic sitcom, do they evade,
Humanity's first man truly lives on
A giggle from Nɔviwo, creation spun and gone
Wait… was that *everyone* packed in one man, well?