Epistle To A Prospective Scholar
(Dedicated To Ibrahim Mutiat alias ATM)


And mama told me: beauty is felt not seen
Her word metarmophosized into a being have seen
On the way to National Diploma I saw her
Her and her qualities which made me add 'ha' in describing her
Never read me as an extremist,I know what I know
Although,I argue not,their are septillions of things of her I don't know.


She is bustle in hotfoot
Into the things of knowledge she shoves and rushes her foot
To the weaker sex of gender she belongs,but seem to murder the fact
To the class of knowledgeable not sycophant she belongs and she keep up to the fact
She knows that she knownly unknown,for that she gets my regards
To the more hot literary heads she always give her regards.

A queen in a kingdom,she becomes humble in Da Vinci's palace
Tell her she has my kudos,for he who lift himself in pride will be abase
Tell her,I say she should quick her steps for it will soon be night dawn
To make up her mind for tomorrow she will dine with the crown and staff in her gown.
Had she no turn to a sister in court to Jezebel and Morgana
Oh! How painful it painless pain me when meditation brings of enslaved souls by Morgana



I say: She is a know
She is capable of distinguish between dark and opposite and yes and no
As confidence as justice on her knows
I am amused when I pictured her as mama prof with her spectacles sleeping on her nose
She is one of Abrahamic's daughters,that father of many nation
Insanity brings more of her,maybe I may become ration.


To her this is one of my billions of quadrillion after trilion and pillion letter
Alas! I don't know,Mother Earth may have sent The Agent to call me home before I write another
Tell her,I say: right in the middle of the word believe is the word lie
Tell her,Jaat says I only trust He who that is in the sky above me not even the earth I lie
Tell her: whatever that doesn't speed a ship is either lessen or thrown aboard: that is Jonah
Tell her the Jonahic message is usually the art of art,never to escape it like Jonah.


Tell her life is a mirage
Life is a pilgrimage
I don't want to repreach The Gospel,but stressing she should hold her heart sacred
From life as a distraction,and if chanced,can add her to his victim of massacred
Tell her: Life is heathly hearted-sick,she should cure the patient Life with her pen as string
Tell her,I say: The world lifts people at interval,never long in the air like a string.


I stop here in my epistle,why will I be another when of his long letters I have rebuke Paul?
If the saying: what goes round comes round is true then Life is a ball
I say: Book is a portable magic,Book is insane,Book makes one a know but insane
Free one from domestic sojourn into the wild,where resides The Insane
Say to her that I say many thing
Say to her Jaat has five thousand teachers and a God,with them I turn to colour of anything.

Written by:
Jimson Jaat Taofik
(Master - Jaat)
27/1/2016