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Date Written: October 7, 2017

It’s predictable, that tomorrow I will awake to:

‘She will amount to nothing!’, they say vehemently

The storms occluded the sky

denying me the Stars

surrender to what they say

is an invitation to sudden death

my numinous world of God and soul

knows no sorrow for I have evolved,



To elucidate a picture perfect life

lived in happiness henceforth

is the quest I embarked on

 sitting, feeling the warmth of the Sun

utterly loved, surrounded by Mother Nature

I watch the fiasco from the park bench


A group of women gathered

to blather and view his wares

tall, dark and a handsome smile

he wore, the wares and smile an

atavistic throwback to the game of

greed he played daily for a magnificent

home he hails from, a car he owns

parking away from the riverbed,

changing into threadbare clothes

befitting a man down-on-his luck

plucks the watercress with an

expensive Swiss knife, into bundles

he makes, gently in his bag he places

before the dark recedes


On the streets, he humbly pedals

his wares claiming ten bucks a bunch

which is too much for her, hoping to

make a delicious lunch, she retreats crest fallen,

unable to conceal her incipient tears

four of them, hunger to bear again


I shed my monastic existence, there and then

to the riverbed I go, the watercress I pulled

roots and stems, in my pocket it went

he approached with animus, shouting abuse

over my destruction of his lively hood

‘How could you standby and watch people

suffer!,’ I scream livid

To the young lady with too many

mouths to feed, I retreat

I sequester the stems and leaves received in

palms of prayer and the roots I plant at the end

of her garden where the stream meets,

so she and her own, never go hungry again


Off to my classes on the road I meander,

greeted by eager children with a lust

for learning I must teach, before darkness cheats

‘Technology, will improve your standard

of living’, I preach with alacrity

an unplugged mouse and keyboard in hand,

 I reach the multitude of ‘Nothings’

predicted like me, to fail.


I wake up each morning now,

with a gift of Giving

for the Living.

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