Impatient, I'm tempted to turn around.
There is a method to my madness, all that is left to do is to exercise an inkling of patience.
Despite the darkness, I must trek on.
Here lies the Lord's most beautiful pearls.
Bold like no other.
Unparalleled and unrivaled like the sweet sounds from the Kora.
Carved with the finest materials and left to settle on the 8th day of rest.
Mashallah, one of His best creations to date.
These are the pearls of Fouta Djallon.
We celebrate the complications and complexity of life but is it really?
Could life not be simpler than what we imagine it to be?
Is everything not a social construct? If so, why did we construct these hierarchies of complexity that are only understood by the "elite"?
Are we infatuated with elitism? Have we blurred the lines between our wants and our needs?
Why the complications when you only want to tell the time?
Is this all for the pursuit of happiness?
The heavens know I love her.
Yet shamefully, my body aches for lust.
I confide in the intimacy of other women. Ashamed of my actions, I can't dare tell her of my exploits.
As nature would have it, karma was the order of the day. Confronted by the most stringent of ultimatums, I had to give in.
I had imagined that this moment would have arrived on the eve of judgement day. But here I stand in front of her, trying to spare what's left of my blushes.
As I plea for forgiveness, I witness her trust, one that I took forever to build, crumble before my eyes. I had to salvage what was left, I had no option. I can't lose her; Not now, not ever.
I'm currently in limbo, I await her judgement. I desperately need to regroup, the world doesn't care about my feelings.
But while I wait for her to decree our fate, I comfort myself in the pleasures of poetry.
how are you old friend?
thought you forgot about me for a second. I was just thinking of you.
I'd love to stay and chat but you've sadly caught me at a bad time, I was on my way out.
haha, you've always been the charmer, you know that?
She is independent and assumes every inch of her being.
She doesn't submit to the stochastic process that is love. Love is painful and uncomfortable, yet we withstand it for its sporadic moments of magic. She knows this.
She does not seek approval from him.
She's empowering. And rightfully so.
I don't know what it holds, I never did.
Although I can't traverse past the speed of light, of late I've been wondering what lies beyond this point. My journey to the west has triggered this feeling; the complement of nostalgia.
Strangely, I can hear the whispers from the other side in the chaotic and cacophony-ridden west. The beauty of a cosmopolitan.
I'm positive. The sounds are telling, like music from the Congo; Beautiful.
It's true. We live in Schrodinger's paradox.
But these sounds are telling.