Hiding behind a banner of his newest constructions, scared of his own nature.
Why did the child feel he had to be old before his time?
Castrated by the perception of perfection,
let’s lay that myth to rest!
He has volleyed so much life,
yet let his palms soften and grow sterile in the corral of other men’s ideals,
Shunning the practicality of earning his own character.
Forgetting the offals and feasting on the lean meat of popular culture has starved his character from nourishing his own experience.
Judgement is a spectators sport,
The hesitant King will soon be impeached for his lack of actions.
When his council is the key stone of the kingdom what use is the man in his flowery crown.
The ornaments are weighing him down.
The crowd was safe in there assumptions,
they sedated the river inside this man and taught themselves well in the art of levying the wash.
There is water in the streets!
There is life inside his eyes!
In comes the tide of a long restrained soul,
drowning out the cries of crowd uninitiated.
Welcome to my river run!!
(c) Saili Katebe