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the karoo by BONOLO GAONAKALA

As I write tears form,
I have a heart born in the karoo,
mind born in the wild,
priorities buried in the ocean
ashes burnt on rocks,
bodies of hunters,
sharp eye for food,
the sound of the wind,
victims of the sun,
splashes of blood at the night.
Two moons, one night
hurdled
before the fire,
sparks fly,
wood burns,
reflects on my eyes,
thirst healing rain
giggles shared playing in the rain,
barefoot , coughs later born,
hearts dull,
pumping red brownish blood,
trees as grandparents tells folklores
ZEPEPE LALALA!!!
singing.
Birds flap wings
talk in melody,
rocks break, sand is born
once was a smooth bum now wrinkled,
people age, but nature does not
And it ne'er ceases to amaze

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The truth is, we are as equally in control of our time, as we aren't. We decide what to do with our time. The power of time is immense, time wasted cannot be regained. Everything we do is time. So refocus your time on things that will better you. Take the time to appreciate. The power of time is in your hands.