Serendipity

Image: PNG Key Anyone hardly misses the three white men who bid visitors welcome into this city; the lines of fame and infamy are thinly drawn in the minds of many.  But reality is often quite a personal thing, everyone with their own experience and story.        With a rich history and very vibrant future, there’s all to live for in the city of dreams. Life’s tough in this city, it makes minced meat of unsuspecting victims, yet the influx into this intricate geography is amazing, its bowels swell by the day. But that, perhaps is what makes the city so formidable, its diversity, its experience, its wealth; unparalleled. It struggles to maintain its grace, what is left of its natural beauty. It’s still quite striking when you watch it slowly begin to submerge, until its totally immersed in the yellow rays of the sun; resplendent, picturesque. And so begins the rush, the exchange of vitality for cheddar; oh the city will drain you, it’ll jolt you from your reverie. The ri

Image The Blaze She comes, happily She comes in, unassumingly She comes into my mind and plays She comes before me and I pray She comes, gently She comes in, searchingly She leaves with the door half open, half closed Half mystery, half solved She leaves as she came With a smile and with grace Reaching farther than when last she came She leaves, she comes, it isn't a game She leaves, she comes, she came

The shrill screams pierced through the silence of the night like a hot knife through butter, but there was no one to hear.  The pain increased in pangs with each passing minute, Omoye had all but given up hope.  She was drenched to the marrow in a mixture of sweat and tears, she didn’t think anyone was capable of enduring so much pain.  Her breathing was heavy and fluttered, her eyes dimmed and muscles tensed, she wondered if these agonising moments would be her last.  Alas, in the midst of all the chaos, an awkward cry arose, high pitched and thin. Silence, and then more screeching. Almost breathless, she looked down, it was a boy, her son was crying for her. 

Image: Bonusly Purpose sometimes is a puzzle, sweating, toiling and hoping for the best Can we have fried eggs for lunch? Maybe not or not yet But you cannot afford to be drowned  in doubt, in the dream, in the shadows of cynicism Leaping in bounds doesn’t always require energy, sometimes just a synergy, of the soul and your resolve At the edge of the meadow, we contemplate and take stock, the air is rife with change and oranges Drift off, buoyed by courage, stringed by enthusiasm Things always look different from up there Again bounded by memory, slack, sticky and poignant It’s the oldest trick in the book, you will do well to bank, (a little) towards the sun,(full on) towards grace,(always) towards inspiration

And so, this marks my foray into the world of blogging. Here I let loose, leaving all inhibitions at the door, here I speak my mind, pouring out words as they are conceived in the inner recesses of my mind. I welcome you to Serendipity, which will sometimes be words, sometimes discovery, sometimes a journey, but always an adventure.   Tomorrow, first words...