To a lowly and hunted
Soul, with a tinkered spirit
Even if the wavy-line’s rift
My skill hemmed in agility
Would not lose a grey hair to guilt
And vanity but my goal on sight

My journey shaky on shadowy
can’t toast a girl ‘cos of dowry
In day time or night hour, at the edge
Machine they thought I am, always on the prowess

To the savannah, that almost swallow my breathe
Will it allow me live for another day, unsullied?
If I raise the brow, the field’ll be so wide to cover
To the length of the crust, savannah belt I move

If days can stop to count, as energy is added
To my knee, bowed they look; to the crust
The storm! Will it smile now or c’mon o’er?
As forerun, I go ahead the sunrise, let sun be still

To work, till earth yield its increase
As the savannah buddle, no complain
To its bud, as fruiting is all earth pray for
But there’s always the other side of the coin

If thou see no lean, no support comes
Just smile back to earth, so it’ll bud
In time, we pray! The course’ll be reversed
Maybe this time, life will bear more than thorns


© Sir Taitophil