Too Late. Poem by Thabani Khumalo

I woke up too late,
I should have caused a storm when I was but yet a kinder,
Rolled the thunder with a roaring voice
And cast a bolt of lightning to the Heavens far
Even much to the terror of the legions of God.

I should have raised Gomora and did so Sodom
To level the dominant kings with a commoner's child
And delivered the children back to the brighter future;
Back to Babylon our deserted land -
where our fathers fell about a shaken tower
and where once the hand of man got him nearer to God.

I could have sunk a ship and had my case deferred.
I could have snapped a submarine between the column
and left it to dissolve beneath the breaking sea, Then I'd stake a claim to immortal fame for
I'd have had the saints cry foul of my evil name
And I'd have shot to fame like the Christ among men -
as well as feared as is the Lord of paradise.

Bad news my brothers - Bad news my friends!
We have been brought to the full Chaos of life
And we are weighed onto the same scale as the Gods we fear.
It is greatly alarming but a devine warfare,
We are wedged into war: in the tussle of the minds.
We are left to fight against a race of entities. Vanity of vanities! all our prayers are vanity.

I should have been as famous as Jesus of Nazareth,
who rose to fame by a meekness and down grade, Whom - since his birth has become the Christ even to a wayward stranger.
Then I'd have preached of power and walked on the ocean's blue,
that shimmers and runs deep with mighty monsters of hell.
Surely I woke up too late to come to life.
I should have known there was this way to fame.