On sun-filled days with few clouds,
We pray for just one to pass and
Provide that sweet shade, offer
A reprieve from the sweltering heat.

But deep in those lonely nights,
With bone chattering chill and the darkness blinding,
We claw the skies, searching for the cutting
Beams of moonlight.
Sanny 4h
Trying to accept what isn't meant for me.

That he isn't the one.

There was a time he said he was.

I feel the sad smile on my face.

The wrinkle on my forehead, caused by him.

Even though it wasn't our fate to be

I hope he thinks of me.

When the other girls don't sing along to our songs.

When they don't laugh the way I did.

When they don't get excited about the moon and the stars.

It's selfish,
but I hope he searches for traces of me in all the girls to come.
If only we could explore;
the skies,
the stars,
the moon,
the sunrise,
the sunset,
and our lives.

ZAR 12h
above the sea
in the silence of the night
the moon kissed the earth

it shone beautifully
reminding me I'm alright
But how can someone
fall in love with the Moon
knowing it has a darker side?
Exploring curiosity
Different world with a same moon

Spectators and Players
Shared from my Anthology, Canvas: Echoes and Reflections, 2018.
Crescent white in the sky
No voice, no sound
Neither the prayer
Once I tried to whistle,
When nothing is something
Knowing darkness has ears
Art is a voice of reason
Imagine infinite mysteries,
A version of reality
Resolute endeavor
To a speech therapist
Genre: Abstract
Shared from my Anthology, Canvas: Echoes and Reflections, 2018.
So many years,
Lifetimes ago,
They saw him walking by the sea.
Their curious eyes
Found something new,
So they wondered what he could be.

They called him Fire,
For every night,
A mournful blaze marks his camp.
And many pairs
Of curious eyes,
Watch him shiver, cold and damp.

How he would rise
From where he lay,
To greet the morning sun each day,
Or bow his head,
His arms outstretched,
And reaching for the sky,  he'd pray.

They called him Fire,
For when he eats,
The trees are filled with deathly smoke,
And as he stood,
Above his kill,
With tear - filled eyes,  he often spoke.

To ask relief,
From sacred names,
A penance for the life he'd ended,
And swear anew,
To end his shame,
That he'd see balance once more mended.

And so he marched,
Into the trees,
And there he found my Mother's den,
Where curiously,  he offered meat,  
And said,

"I've come to call you 'friend. '"
One of the first inspired moments I've had in a while.  Can anybody guess whose eyes i saw him through?
two children danced in the moonlight
your hand held mine
and the stars clothed our nimble skin
every constellation hugged my waist by the grasp of your hand
holding me close
we swung and dipped through the clock’s dismal cries
yet earth’s sweet tune of night’s waking hour
led our steps
you and i
-the children of a mighty God
following each other’s footsteps from the wolf’s howl to the cock’s crow
how i miss this night, a child was i, a child were you
while the night was young
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