Focal Point

Part 1 After a toil and hunt for the bread, daily I sit upon this creaking bed, sick and weary, the uncertainities, consequences and possibilities of tomorrow leaving me shaken and dreary. If these dreams come with a price, I trust I am committed enough to pay. If this life comes with a risk, then on death I'm willing to lay. Bless the mind that dreams and bless tenfold the hand that does. These dreams look to be dispatched and dispensed to the world and a print to be left by each word. In these puny hands is a task, a task that has to be done before dusk. I'm sick of putting on a mask. True, I seek humility but let me shed some wight off my modesty. Not that I want to be a brag, but rather proclaim to the world the fact that I am no drag. Whether I live this dream by mouth or hand, I don't mind, but from this moment on, I lift the blind off this raw mind and let the dreams that had been hidden now be the guide I live by and abide. Patience is a virtue. I'm willing t

In this reeking lair Seated on this cold creeking chair I write Write to you With hope that you stop your wander Write about you With dear candor Write for you To celebrate your honour In abject squalor I have been On empty stomach I have slept, on clammy concretes I have l lain My back washed in pain, I have bent and kissed the lowest ebb Of living and being alive Take this scribe, my dearest As a frank contract A bold commitment to my utterances That when you indeed rest in my arm You will be peaceful through the night And see the day just how you find right At no one moment Will you walk over the shards of glass That malaised my entire existence No longer Will the soles of your feet be mapped with blisters and swells Forget being famished and malnourished With me dear, you are and will be forever cherished Upon your head I commit myself All this struggle is for you That you may know trouble But not in its crudest element, misery That you may cry Bu

In a castaway land, A land of thriving murk of poverty A land where everyone was no one Someone was born. Through every wrong and right, Through the thick and lean Through the shrewd dealings of reality A legend grew. To blaze a trail, they sought And the sky's enigmatic allure, So fetching, blissful and pure Beckoned And who is the legend Not to respond to the call to duty. Never, In the land where everyone was no one Shall it remain the same The stalemate has been broken And cast atide on the dhow Is Destiny On the uncertain waters Over peaceful depths And unsettling shallows It will float Through the waves and the tides Through the gentle waters that lap on its sides The vessel will heed no divergent calls As the wind fills the sail No more shall it all be in vain The voyage of destiny From view in the periphery Is set to dock I advice you make merry For from the castaway land A land where everyone was no one Someone has risen. Photo from www.