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Nothing there was, wasn’t whittled Whether a skill or an ideal or life’s simple things Win or lose, you whittled that Sink or swim, you whittled that too Even God whittled man from the dust of the ground Then, whittled woman from the flesh He’d bound The whittler, not the talker, wins respect For only the whittled can we perfect An idea is never enough Neither can a blueprint take you there But the whittling, the grinding, the effort- When you have that, you make your place here Not on our lips alone But in our hearts and memories     By Nehi Igbinijesu  
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This article was first published on 9th December 2015

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Nehikhare Omotayo Igbinijesu is an Economist, Poet, and Social Entrepreneur. 'He is the author of The Code: A Simple Story About Raising Great Women' and 'Marriage: 12 Questions You Need To Ask Before You Say, “I Do”'. He lives in Lagos with his wife, Akudo and two sons. He is Co-founder of Stuffsilos.com, a motivational resources company based in Lagos. You can email him via nehijesu [at] yahoo.co.uk

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