A cotton garment by the wind breeze, subject to its master. Moves with the flow, swings like a blow although for how long? Merrily it seems to be for now, but how about when the rain water pours? It sits still, dormant with no feel. Hope is no longer an option and tommorow is not promised.
For as long as I can pull back my thoughts a decade maybe more, I can count days I’ve shed a tear. The most recent, not near. The Lord’s face shines upon my soles, I tread and leave unfothamable cheer in every threshold I tap my knuckles upon.
Been noble since conception, all I’ve been gifted- acceptance from my old folks. Actually, I remember now, the last tear was from my mother’s whip lash. But that was for a greater course if not to drive away my folly you’re of African decent, you know it’s a right of passage.
Whatever makes me do what I do is because somebody with a good purpose saw some dim light in me and unselfishly cleared the dark cloud for my rays to shine bright. Bright enough to return the favour to the undiscovered. And as the sky cleared, the least I could do was stretch out my rays to the furthest corner of the sphere.
Whichever feeling I’ve felt if not love? Maybe you tell me better, good friend. You probably know me than I do. What do you feel in my presence?Is it sincerity or deciet? Is it Love in ‘early’ or always ‘late’? Is it pushing away or warm? Whichever it is I hope it’s not foreign and that you relate to me better than anyone else for what you feel honestly, is what I am. I can make a promise not to change whatsoever.
“Prophesy of more life in Paradise!”- so that means you wait for the latter that means you despise what’s on your reach. Is it for gratification or for growth maybe both. You arrive to ‘Paradise’and your ‘prophesy’ is rather more doom and unhappy days than what your mind pictured the picture, is too big for the frame for it to fit right sacrifice to bear the pain of loosing your better half smiling next to you, by the time you’re done it’s only you! Alone! Selfish is what you make it.
Now, sketch what really matters. You’ll be surprised your palm is a bigger size- I drove through a neighbourhood in Avenue 95 ‘Ouko’, and what would seem little to a fellow Rich man seemed priceless. Happy souls, hand in hand dressed in ‘cheap’ but that also depends on what’s your high score in this game of life? No one would beat mine-my Pride is pain of ‘mine’.
Next to my table writting on my notepad I now know. With what I write down comes balance and one’s knowing of themselves. I journey to a destination bigger than me and once I push the brakes, ‘Kind’ will be the ticket for the table set buffet and the well known yet not practised four letter word, will be the dress code. Try to keep up.