He loved Stella Perita, his dear wife, taller than he did,
From across River Nzoia, the daughter of Lubonga
The great fisherman and infamed hunter of his time
That used to **** the leopard with his bare hands.
The ears of Lubonga’s brothers and clansmen
were keen for his fate, as he relinquished Perita
His tallest daughter to Kitui wa Khayongo.
Kitui loved his wife Perita without reservation;
He did everything for her, from washing everything
to being blind to each and every of her faults,
He forgave her ceaselessly all the adulterous acts,
She gave birth to ******* and *******, but he gave no ****.
He washed her every time of the week she took a bath,
He toweled her dry after each bathe, and avoided *** with her
Lest he makes her ***** with his peasant’s sweat and *****,
He economized his eating greatly, so that he creates a reserve for her
When the starvation comes in the month of May, when food is scanty,
She ate and ate until she developed cancer of over- eating,
And when she died Kitui moaned and mourned,
Like a croaking bull frog in the swamps during the winter, for two years,
He grieved such long as his brothers and neighbours skulked in a giggle.

A beginning is simple, or say it's been said.
I differ in thinking, my heart one of dread.
That first step is cosmic, in breadth and in weight.
It harries both shoulders, Atlas made lame.

To face fear and fight folly, to bear shame and know loss.
Failure without trying seems the easier lot.
To drown without burning, wings shapen wax;
this, my instincts gather - thus, my spoke snaps.

For allowed or barred, followed or infamed,
immortalized, idolized, beloved or lame;
Man is Man, too mortal by half;
ad astra, I think - perfection, I gasp.

A goal, I breathe; a sin, most certain.
A thing I need, marrow and bourbon;
for the soul and mind, for my body and heart.
It stops and pushes, my dread, my art.