Musing: I wonder

I wonder if it was a crime to love
Or yet a sin to even try at all;
But then memories sift into time
Amazed to the worlds littleness,
The world seeks after lust
A shrug I must to this vanity
To love oneself is true happiness
But as the nights turn to days
And the days into past memories
It comes to me that love ain’t for everybody
I will continue to try to love others, genuinely
As God has loved me…

I feel absolutely nothing right now…


The African mist

The mists still settle upon the hamlet
The hills, the vales and the green forests
All is treacherously hidden in it
One must tread very carefully, lest
You step on a stray scorpion or serpent
Or fall into a ditch or a fast flowing rivulet
The morning took the place of the night
And there, goes the beautiful African mist

And when the African warriors chant
Singing the songs which frights the Wilds
I run up, to the hills to take a view
Hoping to catch a glimpse of the company
Up the solemn blue skies, the Hawks circle
Boys beat the bush with huge sticks
And men walk around with pepper stoves*
The women and girls stay behind,
Pounding, grinding, cooking and brewing

As my eyes wake, I see the light
And now it rains again after the night
I stay humbly quiet
Listening to this blessedness
A roof pettering; so mild, so soft
Drums played by unseen hands
Up and down; the tempo went
With much silent innocence
For my young wings are not hurt…
I lay to observe this sweetness

Pepper Stoves: A collection of dried grass with pepperic condiments stucked into a metallic structure constructed to have small holes that can enable the passage of smoke; meant to be used as a trap for the rodents of the wild. When a rabbit hole is sighted these stoves are shoved into it, and lighted. The smoke is strong and can choke the inmates of the hole, forcing them out…