Life brought together by sound
Classics sang in style restoring souls, once I was rescued by a song
It told stories and anecdotes I could sense & fastened my memory into a clear picture
Pure drums still linger in my head and the beat of my gong still persists.
Hard instruments continue to compete with the weak & weeks go by before I forget.
Your song rests on the surface of the world and captures the depths within
Enough seasons tell me about the roots of your song & the burden of your silence.
Your music leaves wordy stains on my tongue & hazy views in my eyes.
I rub them hard as I realize that you can sing again.
Say, my song is love, it is a gift, an echo, it is love unknown, it is love alone
My song is a soft cry for those I heard, joy for those who loved it and a lengthy road to you; & all the hurdles we needed to jump to see tomorrow;
And now here you are, crying for the song:
" Let the river run, let all the dreamers wake the nation, come the New Jerusalem"
I wish you could Sing again: "Phind'U Khulume nkosi Yam"
The Collection: Whispers of the day & Monologues of Today
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