Upon My Wobbly Soul. Poem by Thabani Khumalo

To whom shall I surrender my ravished soul
that I may be happy for the little remainder of my embattled life?

In depressing dire poverty,
I saw the need for sufficient wealth -
In the heightening measure of malicious wrath,
I figured the importance of many mercies right.

All alone in the middle of the night,
listening to the voices of my silent thoughts under the flickering candlelight,
I began to thoroughly ruminate over turbulent issues of daylight.
I also figured that mankind will not come alright
until his sobriety extends wary and very bright -
The source of his being needs to come to clear light
that he may learn to resurrect his sense of lurid sight.

Since I was but a tiny little boy,
I prayed harangues to the sky that I may know
what it is required of mankind to really come out
of his overwhelming humanitarian difficulties at best sane... or just alright -
How he would manage to conserve his blood for his breath and his soul for his rest -
how he would do so bring himself to heal and be evidently happy.

So I looked with a counting consideration upon the mystery of death
and I recognized some hidden answers of this life:
We need to formulate a cognition upon every soul
about the deepening truths of the spirit being -
Man can only live when the spirit is active in him.
War only serves to suppress the health of the flesh
because in such a deranged manner of savaged activity,
the spirit dismembers and diminishes to a futile void.

With age I have come to clarify the occasions of spiritual existence;
When the edge of a sharp blade swipes across a human finger,
the whole body will always descend into a grievous malady.

As the body of a person stands as a unit in cellular life,
so does the planet in the life of her individual persons,
but short sightedness is the killer of the original object of view.
The original object of view cannot be altered or compromised.
It fluxes despite the ruthless calamity of the competing chaos.

Man still does not know for he doesn't come to notice
that we should all work towards the efforts of physical evolution
in order to equally encumber the next echelon of evolution:
To understand the waving patterns of the spirit -
the only true purpose of life in its deepening essence,
to hate anything that emanates from evil nature is complete understanding.

Still I don't know why my spirit surges so heavily upon my wobbly soul.