Blessing - the creative

He came. By Blessing Mhlanga. 24/25 December 2019. I struggle to understand the stumbles of my sin, which he took to the mountain untold, to tell a tale that would manifest his undiluted love for me. It's simple, he loved me. I ladened his shoulders with the filth of my malice aroused heart, not knowing l was crucifying the saviour. Yet he still carried the flames of my dark tales which no man could kiss and no woman adore. Singing the praises of sin, l had swallowed the suicide pill : sin. Until he came, until he accepted the bruises of my shame which applauded my fall. He came to unlock the system of sinful democracy, that l had voted for. He came to dazzle the stage of Fame with heavenly hail that his resurrection would bring. No, he didn't come for the saints. He came to replace cents of slavery with tents of liberty. He came  to marry the gentiles with his blood whose brideprice can not be calculated. Yes, he came for me. He came to ignite the fire of my zeal for h

The war of the human race By Blessing Mhlanga. 12/12/2019 They sought to kill the chosen but they later surrendered their blades. Who can master the songs of death? They breathe within the depths of malicious hearts. Our souls longs to kiss and dine with the divine, the only answer to the terror of human race. We race against the times of conflict residing in the spacious gardens of our wish, yet we forget that there's always a root of deceit in the baseless fantasy. The ignorance of our walks may resemble the fallen flavours of lonely hills, seeking for a precious lover that only the Almighty can give. Who can withstand the soldiers of our furious mountains? The war was aroused by those who planted seeds of offence against a prophesied destiny of elegance. They wanted to win but their weapons only preached defeat. They sought victory but their regalia spoke nothing but weakening bones. Now here we are, forcing our mouths to challenge the curse of time, without reaching

Certain day By Blessing Mhlanga. 8/12/2019. Shackles had made me a slave to eating dust. There was no just saviour to do the best. Wounds of guilt, visage of woes, sentiments of terror, l had inherited it all. Finished and unpolished, it's a miracle l was left unperished. Nothing to write home about, there was no home anyway, hence shelter was only but a fluke. Until the certain day of ordinary days came. The day l found my creator and married the true essence of my identity. The day l flew to the mountain top, gazed the heaven of my bliss and grazed the pastures of destiny. This is the day l met my flaws and made a covenant to never dance on their floors. On this day, l kissed the sparkling garments of my potential and dined with honor. I laughed at the vultures of my past down the mountain and saw them gnashing of loss and marrying defeat. The sun couldn't set because they never resisted the glory of my worth. Even the moon joined the sun and applauded endlessly. Ti

If we choose to By Blessing Mhlanga. 1/12/2019 Common matters can be avoided but not forever. It's like trying to hide an elephant in an eskimo. Surely the world presents darlings of pleasure to dance with, forcing our minds to debate with the angels reality. We smoke our hairs with blazing fires, thinking that the showers of daily breezes will forever cuddle us. Sooner, a disliked fate follows, men drowns in the depth of his own toxic choices. We even attempt to shoot blame on the dead and finger point the demons of our lineage, all in the name of excusing our defeated souls. We may be clever but not wise. There's no wisdom in kissing the shame of curse. Neither is there wisdom in marrying mother laziness nor taking a walk on the park of unreasonable murmur. We can walk a mile. Kiss the vine. Divorce the curse. Uproot our ghosts. Ascend above the status quo. And reap the rewards of thus. If we choose to.