TO THE BLACK CAT

All is well that ends well this day, for stoic sentinel of the res publica: Cicero’s voice in calm, unflinching gaze, who walked the shadowed terrain of state.

Black cat on deliberate stride, slow I depart, safe I abide.

Through statecraft where faint souls flee, you stood gìdìgbà as Ọ̀runmila’s sage, poised in Ọmọlúàbí’s scheme and manual, with hand that pummeled chaos into ease.

Like the ancient steward, you multiplied Ondó’s commonwealth into lasting harvest, raising an edifice no storm could disband— Everest-strong for generations to come.

Black cat on deliberate stride, slow I depart, safe I abide.

Now, the sun sets on faithful service: the 35 years gate opens with honour, your labour complete, and name sanctified, and the pride of Aheri goes home fulfilled.

All hail the Black Cat, wise and sure, who served not for applause but for morrow— a sage that lanterns the slippery terrain. Slow to depart, safe to abide.