I made peace with my existence
And the perils it stores for me
I count on it like I’ve always done.
I may curse my days
In every prick paining my flesh
Though it’s the way of life.
I want to cry out my heart
And sometimes I don’t know how to cry
But it pass at the end.
Nothing lasts: nothing mortal stands
And this existence I brood about
Dust is its last stand.
Kabwere Musa
