A man’s life winds through crowded halls,
Like Heathrow’s gates where duty calls.
Among the noise, the scattered pace,
He seeks his flight, he seeks his place.
But fires have sparked in trusted walls—
Like Heathrow’s blaze that stilled it all.
Smoke rose where safety once had been,
A warning carved in steel and skin.
So too, our lives may seem secure,
Yet flames can come—both swift and pure.
And in the heat, our truths are told,
What burns away, what we still hold.
For some, the fire refines the soul,
A gate to Heaven, bright and whole.
Where peace descends like landing light,
And time dissolves in endless flight.
But others walk through ash and flame,
To hell’s own gate, without a name.
Not from wrath, but hearts grown cold—
A final call, forever sold.
Each concourse full of paths and choice,
Each life a whisper, each soul a voice.
So walk with love, and walk aware—
The flight you board leads anywhere.
I’d like to hear from you.
You can reach me
I’m Yours Truly
Andrew A Lloyds Adeleke
You can contact me
