IN THE MIDST


In the midst…..

Of the desert stands a tree,

Its leaves so green,

Flying in the mighty sandstorm so free,

The gushing winds and the stubborn storm,

The angry sun and the tormenting temperatures,

The trees seem unperturbed.

The cold still night,

The tree stands still,

Pregnant with all kinds of birds’ species

It waits for the morning light,

It’s mighty,

It’s pretty,

Its sensation spread beyond the towering dunes,

It shows there is life nowhere.

In the midst…..

Of the desert

The tree bears

Fruits without wear,

Its flowers scent sent the message of love and hope,

The desert dwellers smell the generous fragrance,

They feel the presence mighty of reincarnation,

Reverberating deep down their souls,

And with a re energized soul toil

Defying the angry sun

The souring heat

To get meat

To meet

Their daily toil.

The cold still night,

The birds embrace,

Whisper love,

Cuddle

As the fragrance from flowers fill their nostrils,

They wait for the morning light,

They suckle the rich nectar,

Below the star,

They meet their height.

In the midst….

Of the desert

The beauty of the tree

Sharply contrasts

With the brown

Unforgiving soil.

And in it I see the glamor and beauty of love

As I sit below it, I wait for my Valentines,

Under its grace she shall come into my arms,

In the midst of the desert I shall kiss my love,

As her fragrance fill my nostrils,

We shall fly,

And from the sky,

Rain shall fall,

To pave way for another tree of love.

©musungu2012

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JUST IN


Just in

Silence solemn and sad I smiled,

At a distant star

Or is it an illusion,

Thought in my mum mind that I had found,

The light that could outshine the darkness in my heart

Restore the hurt and hurtle in brilliance

Just in

An illusion

 

Mad

I crawl sanely,

Down from the dungeon of suffering,

My heart floating in a magic spell

Thrown my way by wind

I don’t know

 

Mad

I crawl sanely,

Down the loopholes of despair

Blown my way by the illusion of

Love in dust of despair

I boil so

Mad!

 

Tired.

Carried by the tirade of the gone days,

I smile though the smile a distant near far,

Not so to discern.

Call me not call again,

Thine soul and presence clear as ice

I cringe!

Tired, may the memories of the past dissipate into thin air?

Hope so to shine at the glory of gone days

I wish not to remember.

 

 

 

©musungu2011