Have you ever sat to ponder 
The fact you are ALIVE

Who asked you if you wanted to live? 
If you wanted to be 

Your birth a painful entry into this world 
Accepted as if the norm 
Now there’s pressure to be more 
Than when you were born

But who asked me?

When a seed is sown and shoots 
Does it think 
I must grow 
I must be more than the seed sown

I guess I will never know 
But growth appears automatic 
Choice imaginary

In the seed is the built in destiny 
To be a big and fruitful tree 
But then I guess it depends on the kind of seed

The variables in life appears to challenge all its meant to be 
Destiny’s a hope 
Of what is meant to be

What about me?

When you were a seed 
Known just by cells 
Identity wrapped in the bossom of the womb you were sown

Lets call her Faith 
or whatever name they appear to like

You didn’t choose your name 
Neither where you consulted on your height 
not even your hair colour or the day you’d like to be born

Whats the cause of your existence 
Is it as fickle as the hormonal surge of a man and woman 
or is there more?

Its appears surreal 
You are not the only one 
Everyone you think is right 
Have gone through this same plight

It appears surreal 
Like a someone shouting ‘ACTION’ 
You awoke on a stage 
Before you decided you liked the part 
Without being rehearsed 
In a readymade auditorium 
Moving in freestyle 
You improvision met with the applaud of the few eyes around 
oooing and cooing 
Not appreciating the perplexity of the situation you find yourself

It makes no sense 
Like an ingenious abstract painting 
with no head or tail 
Life has an eventuality that can only be seen from the outside 
In refusing fatality, 

Not drifting by the sea of life 
Tossed and turned like most by the waves of seasons 
Shaped by the crashing on rocks of bitterness, hatred and disappointments

You can look through the painting 
At the eyes that never shifted gaze 
He already knows the end 
Though He sits on His chair in anticipation 
Hoping you can see what He sees from where He is

He knows how to make it good 
not ending up dead

See before being pushed on the scene 
Words where whispered in your ears 
Thats why sometimes you just appear to know something’s 
But they were repressed, fright 
By the glam of the false lights 
The eyes expectantly on you 
as you danced to the rhythm on the stage of life 
its beats contradictory 
A mix of genres 
Some eyes faded to black 
Disappointedly as you did not seem 
to fulfil all that they pleased 
But still you danced 
Wondering when this tune will end 
With each scene of life 
Your act you decide 
Unsure if the style will suffice

Don’t you wish you had the script 
To read so you could at least 
Be what you were made to be 
Knowing the basic 
To go beyond what’s expected 
To stand in confidence 
Purposely dancing to the end

Tags: , ,

Leave a Reply