In the memorial reservoir
Of human intellect
Here I sit perplexed
By the mysteries that reign
Beyond these fair days.
Seated on a dark seat
Books like feathers
Pens like quills on the table
The flipping of pages beside me
Becomes a massive flapping of wings.
I flap mine too, frenzied
Breaking into wild freedom
In escape from life's immediacy.
Like a freed sparrow
Flying over the city's sky scrappers
Over the waving greens
The glamour of the city
In a twilight of gold
Seems like a mirage of a reality
Once seen centuries ago.
In the distant horizon looms
A second reflection of a reality:
A much more glamorous city
In a glorious twilight of gold
Many years into the future.
But between the two lies
A gazing desideratum
Like a valley to be crossed
From a village to the mega city.
John M. Wanjora
© Copyright 2016 John Wanjora. All rights reserved.
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