Impossible Dreams Poem by Thabani Khumalo

I used to dream of only the impossible,
I used to cast my eyes beyond the blind line of natural sight -
and I drew distant figures to the view of mortal eyes,
because I needed God to emanate from within human brains
and to be once more alive upon this land.

There is something confusing about the life we live
and it is beyond the feel of any hand's fingertip,
it is an impossible journey for a thought to travel alone
and it is just the first step into the mighty air.
The flesh has been for long stuck to the ground
and nobody gives the air a chance into the air.

I remember what I saw when I wore a little baby's clothes,
this was all about my living purse when I came for conception -
when I turned off the stars and the moon of its lunar light -
and I turned the view of the land into a scary dim picture -
and the ether was dark enough to reduce the day to a dark somber,
because I wanted the night to be eerily quiet when I was breach-born -
and there I stood above only my pretty little toes -
and my face was as radiant as that of a little girl,

I called onto the sky with a resounding voice -
and the land illuminated again under the moonlight shadow
cast beneath the sky sparkled by the full array of stars,
because a good king had been born in the palace of a handsome prince,
but a God had come forth to occlude my way while I stood as breathing flesh -
and then the destructively pandemonium noise began to persist;
they all continued to speak at the same time.

Nobody ever stops to hear what the other has to say:
in the nick of time when the world was rendered all confused,
God consigned a gyrating demon to always act abreact;
to whip many strives across my beautiful flesh.
Yes, the end days have drawn really near
and the brains of the earth will all forget
to read anything about the infamous holy propaganda -
happiness will again be bountiful on the surface of the sacred earth,
then, existence will extend into the next sphere of evolution.