Chris Mbala

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Imaginary Land

I am an imaginary land
A land where you can
Come unless your dust
Is hidden under that
Small piece of land.

I am an imaginary land
Where there is no pain,
Joy, suffering or anything else
If you want to see, come
And look; what you see?
Nothing.

If the willingness of hearing
is bothering you, then come
And incline your hears to hear
What you hear?
Nothing.

If the lusts of tasting overwhelm you
Come and taste, How it taste?
Nothing.
You want to smell? , come
And smell. what you smell?
Nothing.

Yes, I am an imaginary land
Where minds cannot work
where dwelt a precious silent
A silent of those the world
wanted no more.

Poem by Chris Mbala

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