Prestidigitation

Ebenezer Olalekan

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Ebenezer Olalekan

Monday 19 October 2026

Fear of the familiar

‎An eyesore they made me become,

‎Oh, my eye saw more than I could contain.

‎The pestification of uncertainty...

‎All I tried,

‎The setting aside of unnecessary things,

‎Most I've slid.

‎

‎Maybe I was too accustomed to the familiar midsts,

‎From time, so different was I, even amidst.

‎

‎I'm in the midst, but still seeming alone, as in a foggy mist.

‎I was I, who couldn't be understood.

‎

‎Too free was I,

‎That I was deemed too familiar to the midst.

‎

‎So fretful I seem to the familiar.

‎So small was I deemed,

‎To my good, they say it would be,

‎But the good I couldn't comprehend.

‎

‎The evil they overlooked

‎Took the main effect on this soul.

‎

‎My contributions they see as woe,

‎My words they dim as violations,

‎My actions and corrections they dim as violence and unrelatable.

‎

‎So ignorant they seem to the priotised,

‎So priotised they seem to the unnecessary.

‎

‎My standing, now I know.

‎No choice have I but to resolve to the fear of the familiar.

Ebenezer Olalekan

Monday 19 October 2026

Prestidigitation

We so much live in a system

‎where mostly, the priorities

‎are themselves the problem;

‎where the prejudiced

‎become the emblem.

‎We gratify ourselves

‎above even the satisfaction

‎of our own limits—

‎the felony of our true selves,

‎I call that.

‎This gratification of our identification

‎has been priotised

‎above the identification of our gratification.

‎Still searching for our values,

‎yet exalting ourselves

‎above those with prestigious ones.

‎

‎“It is nothing near pride,” we say,

‎but in exhibition

‎it is clearly what we deny.

‎And yet—

‎the system remains our favourite culprit

‎for every consistent failure.

‎Forgetting,

‎or perhaps ignorant of the fact,

‎that we are the compensation of the system.

‎

‎Some of us claim to be so patient

‎that we have become outdated.

‎

‎We patiently wait

‎for the revolution of a system

‎we ourselves comprise—

‎not dawning upon the fact

‎that until those who comprise the system

‎are themselves revoluted,

‎the system is going nowhere.

‎

‎Yeh.

‎You are the system.

‎So perhaps

‎no system really failed you.

‎You failed yourself—

‎and the system,

‎by being unable

‎to play from the stem.

‎

‎Everything seems prestidigitation:

‎no factorisation of the essentials,

‎just the exaltation of the undue;

‎never learning

‎the integration

‎of real and true priorities.

‎

‎Yet still,

‎wallowing in pools of dreams

‎and illusional consolati

on,

‎appeasing ourselves

‎with the comfort

‎of our current phase.

‎

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Fear of the familiar

Prestidigitation

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