everything becomes mercurial,
across the land tempers rage,
the king has made his declaration,
subject only to the gods of the land;

for when you fail to truly educate,
the mind absorbs whate'er it will,
discerning between intent and action,
is necessary for reaction or circumspection;

but here we are,
yet again, at the familiar crossroads,
to the right or to take a left about-face,
to kick evil in the rear or kiss the devil.

for many ran on fumes,
these few years,
living daily on hope,
and nothing else;

a great number wanted,
but the heavens never granted,
the privilege to see aturn in the tide,
to the dearly departed, sleep on;

and for the quick,
welcome to making history,
a rare opportunity to be amongst,
the countable, the reachable, the available;

whatever it is worth,
the next four can never be as darkly,
as the eight spent in vast backwardness,
time truly deserving to be forgotten;

but for the lessons learnt ,
nothing nostalgic of the cowtostrophic era,
every single element will get what is deserving,
karma always finds a way;

and for the hopeful many,
may your aspirations meet rapid improvements,
because today marks a departure from irreverence,
into days and nights of renewed hope.

Tragedy struck the day,
Death stole you away,
From our lives forever,
To see you, again, never;

But only in my dream,
Our conversations stream,
Yet they feel ever so unreal,
How, how will I deal?

Now seven years gone,
The sadness still weighs a tonne,
Try, and I do, to make light,
But see the tears I fight;

Sleep on dear father,
And say hell to our mother,
The days will be long,
Yes, as I try to stay strong.

The quiet, it shouts at me,
Can't stand the noiseless ringing,
So I turn up the melody, higher,
Then, I'm at peace, with the loud calming.

The ones that bore me,
They are now no more,
The rest by each other,
They look on, unaware;

The past few moons,
For me have been tempestuous,
Navigating economy subtleties,
Around the harshness of present realities;

Sometimes my heart protests,
Send me a-clutching,
Reminds me in no mean terms,
Each beat is to pampered and nurtured;

Looking around me,
Is there anything lacking,
Yes, certainly there are,
And of course plenty to be grateful for;

So, laying here with my thoughts,
The moonshine barely casting a shadow,
Ticking closer, every second by every minute,
Toward the hour of hearty returns.

A mother's love,
Who can comprehend?
Only the ones above,
And below, bounds know no end;

Greater for the male child,
Her son, in whom she takes pride,
Whether he be gentle, or wild,
Always standing by his side;

Not nearly different,
Even for her daughter,
Praying off the malevolent,
Wishing her warmth and laughter;

So, when her joys abound,
And they must follow their hearts,
She remembers her eternal bond,
Almost resists, tearfully, as new life starts.

Into this world came he,
This child, not wild, but beautiful,
The long awaited arrival,
Couldn't have ended any better;

Through the years, he grew,
Enough to see through dark patches,
And into a bearded youth, indebted,
To the graces of better offs;

Thus continued a struggle,
Between conscious good,
Or a pestering evil,
Contesting for time in the fore;

The fair kind caught his eye,
Stirred his inner workings,
His waist will dance to the rhythm,
Of one or two melodies of his choosing;

Responsibility came alongside,
Charged to forsake all else,
In the presence of know and unknown,
And none to make any objection;

In a few moons came tiny ones,
Spitting images of either ***,
Left to wonder how on earth,
One should be blessed, or  even at all?