Treasure Island

Onalethuso Petruss Ntema

(27/02/1985 / Maun, Botswana)

the journey


the journey

i’m on a journey from within
like a shooting star in between,
could not make no catch though it had all began,
on my way towards a place so clean
sick and tired of the conditions ‘am living in,
swindling my mind
to find
the essence of the blind
side of the story; one of a kind.

in its remoteness but closeness
i could feel it within the heart beat of my wilderness
fulfilling the emptiness
and the loneliness,
animatedly gripping my attention towards
and nearer…

i could now feel the tiredness
through my veins
from the membrane under my skin
furrowing through my sensory nerves to the brain
as if i was electrified, journeying to some sort, so plain
gulling proudly in me, couldn’t feel no pain
for i am to blame
for the fame
of my main aim
to claim the chain
abruptly, back to my mind to think of the same blame
that i’ve been so possessed with.

the osmosis of such thoughts nearly battered me off
but somebody from within me,
whispered through my ear flap not to back off
but to strive for a better me….

like a movie script,
all that trailed were so conversant of the other
that i now see thyself as a true reflection of the shadow
that follows me,
whenever there is radiation from somewhere
and disappears in the dark like a night hawk
but that shadow is really me, and ‘am the shadow,
on the journey though the road too narrow
over reels and gullies,
and over hills and valleys
to see tomorrow
for i’m hopeful to reach there,
and survive through the bow and arrow.

but still, i got to free
my psyche from the mental dungeon
pleading with the i not to be a chained spirit,
hence i must be on a journey from within
like a shooting star in between
striving for a better me to pop-in
and those that been on a thinking spree
like me.

the journey,
continues, though i did not pocket any penny
and won’t be like many
of those that give up on a journey.

in its remoteness but closeness
i could feel its footsteps as if it were in the wilderness,
straight from my toe
to the foe
to explore
my mental galore
this, i call the journey from the core
to the deep end of the sore,

in my mental stream line
towards the baseline
of the rain-bowed sky line
and could now move towards the horizon
despite the radiating rays of the orion
to reach the finishing line of the truncheon
and the journey seemed endless but carry on
as reflected by the journey
on the journey!

ntema, o.p.
ntema85@yahoo.com
© 11.10.10

Submitted: Tuesday, September 06, 2011

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