…Is to the medical practitioner; fleshy layers of morrows yet to be dissected with forceps of precision To the farmer; mounds which must be discovered by the hardworking edge of humble hoes To the scholar; new lanes in encyclopedia yet to be explored by the ever curious soles of wits To the lawmaker; unknown prayers which must be amen’d by the gavel To the poet; unknown inspirations that will flow in inky steps into the Victoria falls of ever ready blanks To the thief; a fifty-fifty possibility of his craft being gloriously rewarded by the hangman’s noose – which upon the cranium, cast its charm of halo and in lovely embrace, engage his neck in stifling comfort To the politician; more boxes of promises,wrestling heaps of white lies upon the ever gullible electorates To flora shaw’s daughter; an unknown known morrow only known by the wise, wiser, wisest of the knowledgeable knowers To the hourglass beings of doom; more juicy pockets to milk and friendly terrorists to welcome into their immune community To the cotyledons; dusks and dawns of struggle within the loamy wrestle-ground passage of stalks into barks The tick-tock draws this curtain of uncertainty upon us; be therefore a good tiding to be assimilated by porous minds of posterity