The Blue Book


I have known content,
sitting on a simple rock
with my eyes closed before
the grandeur of another sunset,
singing to the king of kings
with a family band
born in the hot mines
where still we find music,
somehow, here,
whispering of the suikerbossie
that grows on sacred mountains
and the succulents so beloved
by elephants, grey and green
held by memories much longer
than this one
short and precious life.

Long may the cross-legged crypt
wander over these hollow hills;
long may the wind wind its way
through all the secret tunnels
bored below this rise of rock,
ringing with a peace
that passes understanding,
imperfect and whole,
holy still
after all these years sleeping
in African sunlight.


“Because problems can be solved by people”

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