there are days i long for
the allure of philosophy.
writing.
a less personal affair,
but only to a degree.

rather than what i do.

such responsibility, to hold
another's fragile mental
stability within the palm
of my hand!

i am no healer, i do not
offer cures. no. the
gravitation i hold
is simply an

   e  
        c    
             h
                  o

of everything
which shall always
be nothing more than
the reverberation of my soul.

i am not a poet.
my mother tongue is not
within clever word
play or meter.

i speak the words of the
effervescent
cosmic tapestry
within the singing
of the spheres.

there is a quiet history in
that celestial symphony,
an Edda of instrumental
humming all that
was and shall be.

The moon is forever my goddess,
her pure beams light my path.
In this religion, enlightenment is not a process,
but a forever state of mind to have.

The forest will be my church,
roots will be my holy text.
The trees and I will merge
and the wind will listen as I confess.

I will be rebirth
and become one with the goddess.
Since heaven isn't on earth,
and I must have access.

The fluttering curtains. The rough stone wall.
The rhythm of the leaves in concert with the wind chimes.
Clearer.

A fertile space, bombarded by life, love, tragedy.
Nourishing.

The thin film of perspiration responding to the warm tea.
The cup cooling to ambient.
Connected.

An ageing body shaped by rich diverse experience.
A backward glance to a faraway waning peak.
Acceptance.

Countless journeys guiding me here.
Tomorrows destinations biased by passion and purpose.
Mystery, uncertainty, yet infinite clarity bound together.
An unconscious knowing, omnipresent.
Contentment.

It has to have a little bounce to it
I gotta put another ounce to it
My rhythm and flow
Make you dig it and glow
Hope you dig in and grow
Like Diglet to Dugtrio
I’m still evolving me though
I am a dissolving ego
A problem-solving Neo
I have broke free from the Matrix
Still my mind plays wicked tricks
But now I see these traps and ticks
All these flaws I can soon fix
As I climb ever higher
Atop my funeral pyre
No fear that I’ll expire
So my soul sits ever lighter

Floating and flowing without ever knowing
Gloating and showing without ever going
Bloating and slowing our repetitive rowing
Coating and mowing instead of regrowing

We drift downstream as if in a dream
Sometimes we glint, sometimes we gleam
Other times we pay a toll
Yet we are never in control

We can struggle against the currents
Test the limits of our endurance
Or we can learn to selflessly flow
We can begin to gracefully let go

Names of my name.
by Malefo Molefe

The names of me is I, is you; yes, you prefer to call me ‘you’.
The name of I could be clever and the name of you as understanding.
You may call me confusing and in turn I shall name you angry.
Let me label her nice so that you responded in kind, saying she is kind.
She is beautiful, named beauty, she is beauty. She is perfect;
Named after her perfection. She is.

Call me pretentious saying that I belong to a race called “lies”.
Name me a lie. Identifying me as brutal, unkind and unloving.
Your mother named you but your family named you too.
Society called you white yet critically the government used digits.
You are just a number to the government and the insurance company.
Is naming an insult when you know that I ran short of calling you nothing?

The name of God is Jehovah, Elohim and the name of god is the Supreme Being.
The name of God is Allah and the name of GOD is the universe.
The name of GOD is ONE. They call GOD and used names like;
God or god, even father and the sun. They call GOD beauty, I said perfect.
I call GOD everything and name GOD nothing. I call GOD you.
I am these names, the words, the numbers and inscriptions. These are;
Names of my name.