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During rush hour
Everyone seems to think that...
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I wonder which will greet me when I die;
The arch of angels or the scorching pit...
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On a mission, to lose weight
but my will is weak indeed...
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Thokoza!
I shout to you all Rejoice...
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This is the time
to say goodbye to sobriety...
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Thus,
whispered an hourglass in my ears...
-
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It does appear to me that souls' deceased;
Whom died by cancer's deadly spread of mole...
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I wrote to you again
But I still get no reply...
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I can't always write about you
but here lately your eyes dance...
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Accreditation is not desired nor sought,
Creative images fade in whisps of memory...
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“Primordial”
3 Eons ago...
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I pick up my pen
But these words aren't flowing...