My Magic

 We made choices

And the choices made us

We merged and became one


Time drifted

Yet stood still

It paused in juvenile leaps

 

And then magic happened 

You became mine

And I ...yours






Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Political Animal

Image
 The Prompt: I came across a rather unconventional comment under one of the many political posts and i have been both amused and intrigued. The Comment(paraphrased): We are thinking humans—So, In the spirit of common sense, let us not act like the animals on our political flags.  The Discussion: Let's take the two biggest and popular political parties in Ghana (biggest and popular as defined by the voting strength in the 2024 elections). The NPP has the Elephant as their emblem/totem/symbol while the NDC has the Eagle and Umbrella. Since we are looking at animals, let's stay with the Elephant and the Eagle. The Views: My amusement stemmed from the fact that the individual might have written the comment from the "classes of animals" perspective(by Carolus (Carl) Linnaeus). Where his comment was to urge humans not lower their ranks to that of the other classes of animals as they shared their political debates. The intriguing part is carved where it is realised these an...
Read more

The Outsiders

Image
They linger where the lantern light dies, Invisible shadows wearing borrowed skins, Eyes like mirrors cracked by silence and existence, Breathing the dust of nightmares dared and told. Their voices are rivers with no mouth, With songs unpinned, unhinged from the throat of time, Stanzas and lines erased before they even rhyme. They are not storms, yet thunder follows, not ghosts, yet doors refuse to close. They leave no footprints, only questions. They lay bare riddles that the earth half-knows. We speak of them as absence clothed, as if the night itself could steal a stare, but even absence has a border, has a presence.  But them, they walk beyond, unthreaded, bare. They come on the hush of broken drumbeats  that no dancer dares to follow,wearing the decay of forgotten despair with faces veiled in ancestral rites. Between the fire and the silence, between the living and the dead, they are the gods who lost their story. They walk where Legba bars the gate, yet carry no offering...
Read more