Its nature in myriad of forms ever surprises with its beauty and touch of the Divine splendor.
As if woken from the from the colonial times in Africa there is a relaxed attitude each one accept the role they where alloted and does what it is asked to do.
Its people, Black's, Colored's, the Muslims, the Zulu's, the Indians and the Whites, all are a wide spectrum constantly mingling and surprisingly in harmony how they go about in their movements.
The variety of sounds in language makes it ever so alive, one need not understand the words to hear the vibration and see the pictures that are given away. Each seems to know everyone in a constant greeting or shaking hands like one large family.
Women dressed in the brightest colors, long skirts, their babys swinging on the back of mama, while they sell all kinds of wares or carry stuff on their head, tasks that make me faint in the heat of the day.
This world is but the dream that you can be alone, and think without affecting those apart from you. To be alone must mean you are apart, and if you are, you cannot but be sick.
This seems to prove that you must be apart. Yet all it means is that you tried to keep a promise to be true to faithlessness. Yet faithlessness is sickness. It is like the house set upon straw.
It seems to be quite solid and substantial in itself. Yet its stability cannot be judged apart from its foundation. If it rests on straw, there is no need to bar the door and lock the windows and make fast the bolts.
The wind will topple it, and rain will come and carry it into oblivion.
No comments:
Post a Comment