A Road Less Travelled Poem by Ofentse Hajane (The Dark So'tho Seer)

An old man opens his eyes,
Dreaming of the day he once dreamt of death.
A novel stood nearby,
Resting quietly by the side of his bed.
Mystically it stood, proud in the light of darkness.
A dull, empty page fluttered as the gentle, timid wind passed by.
A pencil felt the urge to roll away,
And in its motion, gave birth anew to a wand.
The glasses that stood in awe at the wonders of the novel
Magnified the aged Yew.
As though it were sanctified by tombstones,
Like children gathered around a campfire.
Beneath the hanging dreadlocks of branches,
Phantoms of past lives raced eternally in unseen circles.
While the once-calm heavens slowly grew infected with dark winds,
And storm clouds clashed swords with the blue sky.
Then, victory's bird soared above the darkness,
And the blue sky bled pure blood.
Death arrived to claim his trophy:
A shining, unblemished soul of an old man.
His voice trembled,
Not with fear,
But with joy.
I could have sworn he was giggling.
As I gathered the last steps his voice had taken,
He whispered:
"Cheer up, lad—
If a rising sun is met with joy and laughter…
Why should the setting sun not be as well? "
And when Death turned and walked away into the eternal dark,
His hands were full,
Carrying Light.
It was then I knew:
The old man had travelled a road less travelled.

By O.M Hajane (The Dark So'tho Seer)