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Good day, below is my poem. Be inspired!

MY JOURNEY BEYOND NATURE

To the hills I pitch my tent,
hoping to embrace the unknown of my bones.
Oh! what a sweet flower of mother nature,
that irons the prudence of my dream,
but before the rise, I taste the fall.

The fall of the fallen,
continuously aligns itself with fame of my gnashing teeth,
till I bleed the language of the dead
and still stand against my eye’s fortune.
Who can tell me this tale except I,
who resides in the embrace of the foreign mountains,
that breathe a call of whisper towards the known fame.
What song will I send for the birds to nourish my feet,
till I rise to the bed of roses, that only heaven can impart?
Who said its too late to lick the leaves of my wish?
Only this can alter the altered tale of the blues,
yet remain natural.

If only I could sweep away the lame waters,
before the lectures of religion,
then it would be insane to awaken the breath of lifeless rivers,
that lie along the marrows of this idiom!
To be a lie is to forsake the glow of the clouds,
but to lie against the adversary is to dance in the rain of angelic pastures..
Yes it is! Yes it is possible to ignore this glance
but all I can aspire is to jungle through the maze and consider its rise someday!
I thought the bigger picture only existed within the sand,
but clearly the clouds proved me wrong.

I have surrendered the blades of extinction along the pit
and though the sun tries to be generous but who can bare it?
I’m not done climbing this wall,
this will surely rest with the ancestors of nature
till I rise above the error.
I refuse to let go! I can’t! I won’t! No!
Its too late. Yes its cold,
but I’m willing to make the mountains smoke.
Of course its dry,
but I can make the clouds pregnant of rain again.
Who are you to tell me that I can’t?
behold I have already began and the rise of seas is incomparable.
How can you say it is over,
if my hands are willing to dig deeper within the rotten fountain of life,
in order to bring the heartbeat of honey?
Look: the trees have given birth to the milk
that you thought was buried by storm!

All I have to do is to tighten the roots
until the tale unfolds its glow above sir-mountain.
I keep on climbing because I am the engineer of this tale.
I keep on keeping on because the dream keeps on smiling ahead
and beyond these jealousy rivers.

I’m done pretending to the rocks
that I can be their saviour in the midst of the floods.
It is for me to stand on the rocks and stand against the floods.
It is done. I have began, its here and its mine.
Let the birds rest on my shoulders and whisper the days of delight;
Because they are here. It is true. Oh yes its true.
….………………………………………………………………………………………
4 June 2018. Monday.
BY BLESSING MHLANGA

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