GATHER

I have time’s footsteps’ engraved on my tongue
Recorded in full emotion and expression.

I breathe life into your imagination
I teach your heart courage and inspiration
I vocalize the passion of your tribe
I narrate time with a hypnotizing vibe
I explicate every story with vigor and breath taking life

Now gather before I tell:
Lessons that lie in time’s oyster

Gather around the fire and feast!
Put your ear on the book of past voices
Echoing pages that dazzle your eye with theatrical art
Sway with that current of wonder that stirs your heart

Press your soul against the lip of your culture
Come close together as the Stars look down curiously
Come close together as the moon smiles so beautifully
Come close together and marinate yourself in nature
And listen to tales that will cause your fascination to rapture

And like this our ancestors continue give
Our tribe - life’s lifeless lessons of
Love’s musk, War’s sickening plot, a bleeding earth,
The color of character, The Magic in our soil,
The phenomenal fragrance of worship

 Like this our Ancestors continue to live
As Tomorrow begins to breathe
In the ears of a lively innocence that swims
In Life’s dark womb.
As Today creeps silently into time’s tomb.

Listen carefully
As I tell you of the ornaments from her soul
That dazed both farmer and hunter

She carries life in her tears
She paints her face playfully with passionate pigments
She holds her nutritious breast at the mouth of every creature
And smiles though we deplete her

She rewards hands that toil on her soil
She strides elegantly as she adorns a cloak of sensational seasons
She sings her blues in the waves of melodic oceans
She spoils her guests rotten with continental care
As the entire galaxy bears witness to her motherly kindness

And what of the fury of her soul?
That swirls with indomitable force
Or her volcanic rage that spills her anger?
Or her flooding tears that cover all with distraught?
And look in her mysteries, a million minds are caught

What a perfect poem is her soul, art that the Maker wrought
Of rhythmic captivating thought
And yet our global greed leaves her distraught
As we suffocate her soul in a blanket of smoke

Where then will life find hope?
For though curiosity dreams sweetly at the edge of the telescope
Common sense knows that she is our earthly home.

And as she ages towards her last page
And moves aside for a frightful stage
Then reborn on the 2nd blowing of a winged horn
How woeful indeed are the secrets here shown?
And eye sore where forgetful souls are thrown
And serving souls? How wonderful is their true home.

I take you to the forest of love

Where heavenly flowers blossom in dancing souls,
And tongues are pleased by the sweetest honey that only love knows
And hearts are scented by a fragrant affection that blows
Past locked eyes that are lost in a world where time’s haste is slow
And a river of promises never ceases to flow
And the seed of unknowns, firm in the soil of hope begins to grow
And the magic of companionship beautifully glows
As lovers are covered in the golden dust that Fate generously throws
But who now knows what Fate will now not show

And over there some souls wander
Alongside the towering mysteries of this wonder
In the dense marshes of fantasia they dream under
As a cloud of heavy emotions gather to plunder
Love’s paradise and render meshed souls asunder
A heavenly gift granted and now a memory that will not shatter
As sweethearts are blinded by a blaming thunder
And hate echo’s louder as the tree of withering love grows taller
And in its shade sit souls sobered by a vine of ache
A lesson that these souls will not shed, a pain to loud to ponder

I take you to the front line of a thousand wars
Where Rulers roar on battlefields of power
Where trust is murdered by deception
And honor is slayed by manipulation
Where wisdom labors peace

Where Kingdoms take flight on the golden wing of knowledge
Where truthful Kings feed the masses the fruits they pledge
Where council is taken at the feet of a sage
And rulers are sober with truths beverage
What a florescent page
Soon to be, a forgotten age

When the war drum whispers in infants' ears
And the grey become grateful for their silver years
And the village’s face is smeared with white fear
Wisdom’s eye begins to tear
At the sound of destruction that draws near
As warriors wage courage on fear
And death lives at the tip of flying spears
Where greed is quenched with blood
Where flames of hate consume villages
As a frightful force thrusts the hearts of the defenseless

Sorrow’s tearful page
Soon to be a forgotten page
A portrait of war’s curse
Death’s doomful verse


I narrate to you: a character

Who takes desire for an archer?
Whose arrow aims at a darting target
And hits nothing but regret
A slave who thinks himself to be a master
Whose labor cannot not find the bottom of his deepening pleasures
As he seeks to please his fading shadow
What greater reward is his than a chest of sorrow?

And another

Who knows his Master
Who takes truth for an archer
Whose arrow aims at a fixed target
And hits what his Master commands
A victory that forever stands
That slave who does not seek a greater pleasure
Than what will remain forever
For this is his only treasure
And servitude is his only leisure
For he knows with certainty his Master’s splendor


Now sit and with soul contemplate

Become overwhelmed by the essence of the Great Spirit
Allow the torch of introspection to illuminate
The secrets inscribed in the cave of your inner being

Like that blessed soul that sits in an orbit of worship to Truth
Whose cosmic existence exudes with rays of
Servitude with every lively action
Actions of Truth to Truth, for Truth, in Truth, with Truth, By Truth

What melodic traction
A galaxy of Love
That connects creation with Maker
A Love that completes creation
And makes that searching soul whole
A story of a beauty too intense to be told
A love that wrote Fate’s golden notes
A light the conducts the music of life

Now sense with spirit the music of the stories I tell
The teachings that time will continue to spell
To every era that shall dwell
Within the freedom of his spinning cell

What beautiful gems time’s tree leaves?
To crown the thoughts of those who ponder
To be worn by those who gather
In divine remembrance of what lives Forever
an action that perfumes the be-ing of every being
As Time continues to sing
A chorus of praise to the Being Supreme

A JEWEL FROM MY RIB

All he longed for was to see evil
He made the choice to see the devil,   
This heart pure had once been
But now he bathed his heart in rivers of sin

He looks at her and cannot hear his mother's voice
He looks at her and cannot see his sister’s smile
He looks at her but cannot see Nature's face

All he sees is her sex appeal,
His eleventh fantasy before his eyes becoming real.
By the opium of his carnal desires, 
He becomes an analyst of the Creator's masterpiece

Where he is she will not know peace
for he is possessed by his own demon,
That increased his testosterone flow, 
in this state no beast will reason

She cannot not hear him 
panting wildly for her neck,

She cannot hear 
his vicious thoughts to suffocate 
all joys and smiles from her soul.
She couldn’t hear 
her protector 
turn into predator 
in an instant blink.

This tyrant was to powerful for her, 
and so this lioness roars for help,
her roar is heard but not listened too
he stripped her honor viciously 
as she asked herself 
who In society stripped him 
of his conscience?

His madness stood erect 
as he demolished the walls
that guarded her soul: her soul bled in bitter infinite tears,
As she wished this moment to end, 
her mind stood defeated,
it remained perplexed by 
this animal's disrespect for her womb.

She clenched the soil for strength
for her strength left her slowly 
 and slowly each smile each laugh 
was peeled from her soul, 
he plucked the petals from her soul. 
Now his madness is flaccid like his culture
He pulled out but still a violent fear echoed deep in her being.

Her soul lied with wounds that will not become scars
Her soul was bare like a poem without words









All he longed for was to hear  evil
He made the choice to listen to the devil
This soul pure had once been
but now he bathed his soul in rivers of sin

He bought a beautiful house
She turned it into a humble home
He worked hard to feed the children
She had a hard time giving them a wholesome culture

He took from a bottled evil; 
She stayed sober for the kids
Her beauty was blurred in his vision
She knew he'd forgotten himself

He rearranged her face:
He laid his hands on what he cannot make
She shadowed her fear in silence
He marginalizes her love 
and chooses to womanize

She digests her pain for the children
this coward’s ego can not be filled
but she stays as patient as a saint,
He missed her and broke the window
her home was broken.
The children’s hearts are broken,
She said ENOUGH!

So he figured he'll pull the trigger 
on her First
so that nothing will stand between
him and the kids,
then the little kids
Now they all lay  
in what once ran vividly in their veins
an eye blinding image framed in it are victims of a fool’s rage!

All he longed to say was evil
He made the choice to speak to the devil
This tongue pure had once been
but now he kept his tongue in a river of sin

He pours fabricated words for all around
with intent to tickle their ears with his mister money image.
He could talk sand into gold, 
He made pity walk off his conscience
so that his eyes would water no more,
 He has so much fear in him
that there are cob webs 
in every corner of  his wretched soul
But some how he always wears his killer mask.
He is king of beasts in this jungle with tarred paths

He lures her with dreamy sparkling ornaments that glow on her face;
He lures her with a cup of lies and stirred in it is a teaspoon of half truths
that she my taste the truth but all still a vicious lie
He lures her with sweet snow that makes her senses melt,
Even she cannot understand what she has become
He put a leash on her soul and sold her curving figure to 
hungry eyes that stand on moral ruins, 

she stood in the dead of night 
at the 90 degree end of the block
thinking of her last meal it 
was something white 
but not quite rice,

She wears the hottest outfit in the market 
picked out by him:
so tight on her it suffocated her skin, 
Her skin was chilled by a lonely breeze
She wins her customers' eye 
again and again, and again

She tried to put together the crumbles in her mind
But just then he'd unleash his crack then 
she would crumble in ecstasy, 
this is said to be the oldest profession

She's only fourteen!

Who Is she?
she is sister, she is mother
she is daughter, she is neighbor
She is a jewel from my rib!
She could be Africa
She is a nation, she is the third world
She is Bosnia, she is Sudan
she is Lebanon, She is Rwanda
She is Palestine, She is Cuba
She is Afghanistan, She is Kashmir
She is an overheated planet earth

And who is he? You tell me...

THIS PILGRIMS PEN

THIS PILGRIM'S PEN

Powerful words
worded with waves
that crashed on the shore of creativity
covering the shorelines of our existence
coloring the grays of our ancient anatomy
with the beauty of the note that carried the first melody
and mothered music
tracing the tracks of our tragic testimony
the blindness that blinds us from our blindness
the knowing that gnaws at the knowing of unknowns
Painted by the abstract captions carved from the precious
marvel that liquefies into the poetry in This Pilgrim's Pen 
A rose reddened by a ruby like remembrance
That echoes beyond mounting moments
That spans beyond the space of spaces

A spoken soul, A striking spear
A seeker of peace
In our world of war

Between the lines drawn 

by her saffron ink
May you begin to think 

of Allah's Majestic Roar

(Inspired after reading a poem by Sukina Pilgrim of Poetic Pilgrimage)

http://www.facebook.com/notes/poetic-pilgrimage/a-lovers-tongue-poem-by-sukina-pilgrim/10152716797555650

HOW USELESS

HOW USELESS

These breaths of mine become heartbeats
Heartbeats that provide my organs with life blood
These organs that bestow life upon bones and flesh 
This Life that lifts the motions of my limbs
These limbs that breath out stillness

How useless indeed
If it be 
That between the two breaths
All I see is me

For if so
I have certainly existed
but I did not live
For what is life if not the song of my breath
the drumming in my heart
the ocean in my veins
the love that lifts my limbs
and the silence that speaks stillness with the tongue of motion

But if not
I mute time
And space becomes my scent
For only life can see life

ETHEKWINI

eThekwini

Inspiring landscape
Inked in green
humbling hills
Ocean blue
This Vibrant View

Her Sun baked beauty
Feels like a delightful breeze
Caressing my being
Her breaths drum-beating
On the hide of my concrete layered Skin.

Calling me to sing of:

The mysteries
that shaped her nourishing breasts,

The sacred sculptors
Time carved from her salty tears,

The silver clouds that carry the courage of her reign,
The golden crystals of ebony Soil,
Her enchanting Soul.

The tragic testimonies twinkling
in her eyes like the morning star
singing in the sky.

Testimonies of:

Mankind's Melancholic Mind,

Her Guests Gobbling Greed
For the Jewel Starved Crown,

Their Fragrant Fantasies
That fill Their Hearts with
Dunes of Desire
For a Leg-less
Thorny Throne

As they barter
The Better Kingdom
For a Bitter Kingdom

The waves of Her Anger Roar from Afar
Crashing upon the numb shores of their barren be-ing.

And yet this heavy hearted host
Cushions her guests in love's delicacies.

Show yourself to me 

You Flower whose petals
massaged the skin of my ancestors

You Great Shade
that housed the timeless conversations of my ancestors.

You Heavenly Horizon
in which the days,nights and cosmic gifts 
of ancient ancestors and ancient descendants.

You River whose waters
carried the kisses of love to parched lips.

You Fire whose phenomenal flames
Shone in the hearts of sailors from afar
and memorised the magic of the Nguni Tribal dance.

You Rainbow
Whose music called the colorful fabric from the Indus
and greeted Sompisi's sight with dancing light.

Show yourself to me!

STARVING ARTIST

My cry is the hardest

My laugh the loudest

I am the black and white keys

With a variation of melodies

Inspiration is my pianist

And soul is his vocalist

She hits high and low notes

As I make her heart of hope my life line

On which I write my next rhyme

I suspend your thoughts over the edge 

of adventure I compose in prose.

With pen and ink I turn this page into a fragrant rose

And that page into a current of clamouring courage.

I am a book whose cover has never been known

And yet in whose pages endless faces and ages are shown,

Fragments of mysteries are thrown

That turn into puddles in which masses drown.

I am the voice that flies from an ocean of potent emotions  

Though not just a writer

I opt to write over being an average Nine-to-fiver

Underpaid, overworked depression wrecked

I evolve on the escarpment of endless expression,

I pay dearly for my transgression of social deformity

I am a starving artist

My love is the brightest and fullest moon

My depressions are dark and empty

Like the spaces between the stars

I am the hide stretched over the hollow bark.

Drama drums delightfully on my chest
as her emotions burst and overwhelm me,

Flooding every inch of my skin with music 
and yet I am dying of thirst for another vibrant verse, 

these sounds bounce inside the walls of my life

And so into the wilderness of melody my soul carries my feet.

All is brought to life by the beats that I breathe.

Hungry eyes devour my delicious dance with romance...

I am the droplets from the divine music of the abstract

Though not a dancer I opt to dance

Over being a puppet of idiotic -isms and deceptive constructs

I pay dearly for my transcendence of social conformity

I am a starving artist

My sight cuts through layers and sees 
acres upon acres inside that wrinkled mind.

I float between the messages that are sung to my senses

I am struck off from the world wide web Of I want - type of thoughts.

The sky is in my heart, my heart in the sky

Now you know my reason to smile.

Along many paths I walked,

Along the miles with many souls I spake:

The children told of Magical dreams that flow like silver streams
What beautiful dreams

The King told of the burdens that burnt his sleep 
and made his heart weep, shackles that even a slave would not keep

The playful youth immersed in the beauty of the beloved, 
explained how at the sight of love

The world turned him into a sculptor of poetry.

The Princess explained the piercing pain she felt 
as the ageless mirror stole her royal charm.

The mother spoke of how the pain of birth showers an ocean 
of love for her child a language of sacred conversations by the constellations.

The drunkard soberly spoke of the sorrows that stained his soul, 
He mentioned that no matter how much he drank 
the emotions he bottled kept his cup full.

The wise woman explained how futile the tree of wisdom was

If it did not flower with good actions and did not bear sincere fruit.

The Imaam put into perspective the consequences

Of this action and that action

And yet confessed that Allah knows best.

The Fool lamented that his regret caused him to regress and wished

That he had followed the direction of deeper reflection...

And so you see from the kaleidoscope of my conversations,

Much colour has been brought to my attention.

Carefully crushed and mixed with the water from my being,

I project these pastel perceptions of self 
and flashes of the universe on the face of the earth

Though not just a painter I choose to paint over

Being a dusty portrait of self pity

I pay dearly for my animated sketches of speechless sights.  

I am a starving artist.

And though my stomach is empty

I make the belly of your soul heavy

Though my attire is tattered

The garb of my soul is golden

My wealth will not wrinkle

I am the poet's powerful pulse

The Sufi's sacred scent

The Lantern's luminous light

The single soul

That is known

In the breath of countless cultures

The abstract that is never absent

My poverty is a thick veil

That stands between

You and a marvellous universe

I am an artist

It is you that starves.

OUTER SPACE

Her roar left me raw
As her words waged war
Against the images she imagined, loved then tore
into pieces that crystallized in her core.

Nonetheless she kissed comfort with the lips she wore.
Her self esteem would soon soar
and multiply with every set of eyes her flowering femininity would draw

His ego would knock on an open door
She has seen this before
though it is she that he claims to adore
before spring he will remember that open door

Her self esteem will plummet and crash on the floor
The emotions will gather her broken heart beats and her soul will pour

she slips back into the moment and thinks: don't be such a bore

And now it's nearly spring
She's lost a beautified thing

Her eyes blossom into tears
 love has become a painful spear
that settled in the flesh of her soul.

All the world's hype and lustful lies solidify in her hand
And now once more she felt safe behind her shield

Every time I hear her roar
My existence shatters into pieces of her:

Sharp edges of pain
without comfort

A bare bitterness
waiting to be clothed by that...... sweet lovin

Drama dripping from her eyes

That might be why she'd rather have them thinking of her thighs

She always wore a different face
But always wore the same dress

Always sinking into the same space

Sometimes I wish some one would write
across the blue sky

for this lioness

a place that might catch her gentle eyes

YOU ARE YOUR SAFEST SPACE!
NOT THE STARS IN OUTER SPACE!

TODAY

Time towers over us
As we interpret this moment to be hours

Minutes molded into a maze
sliced from seconds that become fast cementing pathways
we walk on encircled in bubbles of new born days
mornings mapped with mourning and a couple of sun rays

As curiosity or lack thereof leads us to our inseparable ways
that grow into mushrooming midday's
We merge melody and music into our ancestors yesterday's and buried ways

Well at least till we fumble upon our own way or the prescribed way

Or till  lazy afternoon naps give us away
When we dream of that hypnotizing perfume of our full potential
that our daily chores did not care to mention

Perhaps when self pity sets
we will erase regret in sets

And begin to remember the sound spoken by the seed
that silently sprouts into an awesome sight

Between the palms of the earth, beneath a skin as dark as night 
it resolves within itself to take the form of light
With all its being it searches for what is warm and bright
With all it's might 

And never ceases to seek it even in the cold rain
till it reaches the certainty of the silencing night 


What is best to praise
of our encounter with this ever present today?

That throws what we think to be ours
in a dungeon so far away
that nothing remains of it's shadow
other than the mind's futile play
or the heart's abstract contracting pain

Do we praise Today?

How does one explain 
That today was made plain
If one cannot comprehend 
that today was marvelously made?

DEF POET'S INK

Def Poet's Ink

Africa fills her beautiful eyes with tears in agony
that has mastered her children and overwhelms her turbulent emotions, 
yes she is a Queen for she gave birth to nations of royalty and warriors, 
her crown so beautiful a bright light came from it
that blinds the eyes of those who wish to be led by the spiritually dead.

her crown had colorful gems and precious minerals
a masterpiece crafted by mother nature’s green hands

this amongst many wonders made
her planet earth's beauty spot.

I pity her as devilish dictators roamed her kingdom like killer locust
flying over her golden crop that left her children starring
into the face of famine and her five fearsome curses. 

The greedy man swallows her multi carrot wealth and
feeds her leaders the apple of poisoned politics, 
these leaders married their women to brutality
and clothed them in thick garments of pain.

These leaders stole the wholesome future
from their infants mouths and filled their tiny soft innocent hands
with man's greatest invention 

THE MACHINE GUN!

To harden their hearts and ensure that her fertile soil 
is washed in their priceless blood!
But still her foot soldiers cannot rub their eyes and clear their vision 
blurred by a concoction of pretty propaganda, empty pride, falsehood and toxic morals
this mixture is labeled “to make a civilized citizen with a strong sense of culture”.

These intoxicated soldiers march away from the front line
in the rhythm of late night bashes as they indulged in a bottled joy 
these troops will mock a virgin’s flower,
to these troops AIDS is no foe but a legendary myth and death an illusion,
they conscience is no means of staying cool.
By he who holds my breath!
By he who put upon this earth the glorious book 
they will meet the hour.

PUNCH your fist in the air!
Speak in colorful tongues! 
And lift your courage to the heavens!

FIGHT to free Mama Africa!

Let us FIGHT with our minds, our swords, our hearts and our spears.
For the power of their demise lies in what they wish to destroy.
Fight for a def poet’s ink can bring sight to blind mind

c2005

DEAR RAMADAN

Dear Ramadan

And at the waiting of your moon
My heedless heart flutters
My emaciated soul yearns
I’ve been a waiting groom for eleven moons
though I have not perfumed my deeds
or cleaned this stench from my mouth

Though I have not dressed the best of dresses
Though I come draped in forgetfulness
I know that the light of your beauty
need only shine on my face
and any eye that falls upon it
will not blink.

Though my pockets are empty
and I bring no dowry
I know that my days with you
are filled with golden treasures
that no mind can imagine.

The thought of your face
has frozen the words in my pen
But it is in your presence
that a pearl was sent
Who’s beauty no poet will ever know
The marvelous Quran
The words that I hear
but I am too deaf to listen too
The words that I look at
but too blind to see
the words that I recite
and yet to dumb to read
What a saddening waste
For surely than this
There is no greater disgrace
So with the light of your beauty
cover my face
With your overflowing mercy
drown my faults
with the sacredness of your presence
transmute my base metal into gold!

Little do I know
That when words of the Quran flow
through the furrows of the soul
with a melody sweet and slow
Hidden surfaces of the spirit become known
A sacred softness starts to grow
A distant moon begins to glow
A seed of wholeness is sowed
beneath the soul’s scent full soil
that silently germinates
into fragrant sounds
melodies that marinate
the heart in the pulse of life
and enshroud that life with the Love of God
with waters of remembrance that awaken the soul
Till everything perishes into the Truth of Truth
Till the essence is drenched =in Truth
And yet when your moon dies
your gift to this follower of Muhammad (peace be upon his Excellency)
The helper of truth by the truth
is cremated in the forgetful flame
of crippling passions.

Dear Ramadan
return my thoughts to Purity
Summon my feet to the ocean of Mercy
Moisten my lips with the utterance of His Glory
immerse my skin in the waters of your beauty
fill my forgetful corpse with the essence of worship
envelope my being in submission to my Lord
annihilate my procrastination in steadfastness
perfume my actions with the scent of Muhammad
the fragrance of all existence (peace be upon his Excellency)
draw me closer to the Treasure of all treasures
starve my ego without end
And cement my inner state
in increasing goodness
And through the station of His beloved slave and
messenger (peace be upon his Excellency)
of His complete message
May your Lord grant me my wish!

IMAAM TIJANI CISSE

Your poetry thunders inside me
I sit bewildered by bolts of beauty
As I capture captions of your light I see right through me

Celestial clamoring that never ceases
As pleasant as a refreshing breeze is
A rumbling roar that proclaims who The Real is

Forgetfulness
washes away in this soothing stream of reforming remembrance
No pen can speak of your brilliance
No tongue bears the eloquence of your excellence
No master can rival your  presence
No wayfarer can reach the essence of your essence
No flower carries nectar more pure than your heart's fragrance

O Shykh Tijani Ibn Aliyou Cisse!

May Allah sanctify your secret and wash our hearts
with waters from the well of your perfected be-ing
so that we may soar in our soul journ.

O Master
How marvelously the light
Of Muhammed (may peace be upon him) Allah's beloved shines
On your face, your hands and feet
Like the light of a full moon  kissing the surface of a still lake
A sweet sight indeed for my bland soul to take.

O Master
Your cloud of God Consciousness constantly pours
With rain drops of Allah's remembrance
That causes my heart to germinate with love for Allah in abundance

O Master
Your electric emulation of the inheritors of the Final Prophet Muhammad (may peace be upon him)
Sinks my soul in depths of contemplation
Of the cosmic character that perfection envies.

You are the heart with which my love for Allah
Is felt with a ferocious fever
it is by your  hand I pledge alliance
To tread upon the purified and perfected path paved
By Allah's beloved Prophet! (may peace be upon him)

You are the precious velvet red
that curtains a concealed conundrum

You are the effulgent emerald emanating exquisite divine delicacies
That saturate the seeker's heart with everything that was hoped for and galaxies more

Shykh Tijani
It is of Allah that you remind me
In this, the sight of you suffices me.

Beloved Master
You have inherited every molecule of the Prophet (May peace be upon him)
We obtest  that you raise us to the pedigree of his purified companions.

Beloved Master
You have absorbed the magnumus means
From the saint that stands alone
A Formula that propels  the seeker at the speed of sincerity
Dissolve our ego's  in your crystal clear aspiration!

O beloved Master

You are the Fluorescent Firmament
Flowing from Floods of phenomenal Stature
That trebled the taste of the souls rooted in rapture
And baptized the heart of the seekers in a state light years
Ahead of those that forgetfulness has  put to sleep

DROWN THAT FROWN

Smile life means no harm
Smile and express your charm
Wear hope for a crown
Make the world your farm


Plough in it the dreams treasured in your heart’s palm
But carry a basket to harvest life’s seasonal lessons on the other arm
Least ignorance overwhelms you like a deadly swarm
Amass your good to a healthy sum


Pile your bad on a dwindling lump
Take hold of your temperament and disarm
And give your heart a raised thumb


Let the dancing seasons be a colourful alarm
Of time’s promise to return you to where you’re from
As he did so punctually to what has come and gone
For he asks you not if you’re weak or strong


Know that it is the present that must now be worn
All past moments must be ritually torn
And piercing pains in times bottomless well thrown
A hopeful appetite for tomorrow must now be shown


Listen attentively as the wise man plays his drum
For his melody hath over many fools shone
And did away with misconceptions that their thoughts sat upon
And deemed lost battles, wars newly won


Smile at the beauty of nature to which your soul is drawn
Smile at the magical rhythm that grows on poetry’s lawn
Smile and drown that frown


Smile even if it’s not for long
Smile and joy will sing you a happy song.