The fields look greener on the other side of time,
While others harvest gold, I'm learning how to sow.
Each step I take ahead births four I leave behind,
Yet something in my chest refuses to let go.
...
Life is a river that does not ask permission to flow,
One breath you are the sun; the next, buried below.
She laughs like a mother, then turns like a blade,
And the brightest of mornings can birth the darkest of shade.
...
Nobody warns you how quiet it gets before the mouth opens.
By nine, the corner boys already know your name, know which house you sleep in, which taxi you take to school, and they wait there anyway, plastic bags of white passed hand to hand like communion nobody asked to take. Down the road a girl who used to skip rope is stroking a stomach she didn't choose, and everyone calls it grown-up like it's a compliment.
...
Xolani Mario Majola, born on 24 April 2000, in South Africa, is both an artist and a scientist at heart. His passion for creativity knows no bounds, spanning poetry, drawing, music, and photography—especially capturing the essence of nature. Fascinated by the world around him, he finds deep meaning in nature exploration, human behaviour, and the vast history of civilization. His artistic expression is inseparably woven with his scientific curiosity, allowing him to explore profound ideas through multiple creative lenses. His love for writing began in 2014, though his early struggles with English made it a challenging pursuit. Determined to improve, he sought mentorship from his high school English teachers at Tongaat Secondary School, who played a crucial role in refining his writing skills. Over time, his words gained depth, and his ability to craft meaningful poetry and short stories flourished. Between 2016 and 2017, his creative journey expanded into music, with a particular interest in rap, drawing inspiration from renowned artists like Lil Wayne and Drake. This phase allowed him to explore the power of rhythm and lyrical storytelling, adding another dimension to his artistic expression. Although poetry remained close to his heart, he focused heavily on music production from 2018 to 2021, developing his skills in Deep House music. In 2022, he graduated with an Honours Degree in Environmental Science from the University of KwaZulu-Natal, reinforcing his scientific pursuits. His fascination with the natural world finds its way into his creative works, often reflecting themes of human existence, resilience, and the intricate balance between the tangible and the mysterious—both religious and otherwise. For Xolani, writing is more than just an art—it is his truest voice. He does not write for profit but to inspire, to heal, and to offer insight into the shared human experience. His words transcend personal narratives, echoing the emotions, struggles, and triumphs of those around him. Whether through poetry, music, or photography, he seeks to create art that resonates deeply, leaving a lasting imprint on those who encounter it.)
Different Clocks
The fields look greener on the other side of time,
While others harvest gold, I'm learning how to sow.
Each step I take ahead births four I leave behind,
Yet something in my chest refuses to let go.
I've watched familiar faces climb to summits high,
And sat with quiet wonder at the roads they've paved.
But we are not the same; not every bird can fly
The moment it is born; some wings must first be saved.
I carry my own weight in armor built for me,
No borrowed gear fits right upon this frame I own.
The race was never fair; it just was meant to be
Run differently, with seeds that only I have sown.
So I will face the front, though storms are all I see;
I am my own believer, and that's enough for me.
Sometimes the ending is all that mattered. The start, the in between, were all but scaffolding — necessary once, forgotten now — for this single arriving moment, the way a wave means nothing until it breaks, and breaking, becomes everything the ocean ever meant to say.
Sometimes all that matters in life is your fluidity in difficult moments. Like matter moving through the unseen dark — squeezed, halted, pushed again — it does not ask permission of the resistance. It simply persists, finding the narrow way, until what was once trapped arrives, quietly and inevitably, at the vast open arms of the ocean.