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The Weather

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I think of our dreams. I think of our passion. How all these interlink with one other. How how dreams always translate with were our passion lies but one question i ask myself always....will we ever make it. Will our lives translate in such a way that our dreams become possibilty. That possibility becomes reality. The future is what we cannot predict. If only we could predict our future the way we predict the weather. When its gonna rain tomorrow, we know we need to pack an umbrella. If its gonna be hot, we know we need to apply our sun screen. Life doesn't work like weather predictions sadly. We only know of the now, tomorrow is unknown but that doesn't stop us from planning for our future. These are thoughts that cross my mind and the question that always pops up in my head....where are we going?... Well  no one can answer that question so should it mean we should quit because we don't know if the sun gon shine tomorrow? Just like weather predictions they don't tel...
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O P T I M I S M.

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Blessed be the ones that live without pessimism,  The glass is half full type,  While someone is whispering 'don't cry over spilt milk' as I convince myself that there wasn't any water to begin with,  Excuse the God complex,  I was told to believe that I was made in her image, so excuse my self love and don't take it as self louth,  Let us not exist in the spiritual but Let us us sing our songs and  Let us write our letters hoping that these thumbed sucked addresses become real and replies become consistency till my broken rib is replaced. By: | Mfezeko Booi |
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Sonnets&Poetry: PRISMS

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I walked out the house and felt out of place. Looked up and saw cracks in the sky, And what we call space, Was just that, an empty space. Thats when shock struck my face. Riddle me this, what is life if we treat it like a race,  Then leave the earth with no trace? Imagine the unimaginable; Losing sight of your tangibles, Human race turning into vegetables, And seeing the same events that you once read from The Crucible . I walked out the house thinking ill make it back, But along the way my life got jacked, Does this fit as a stolen moment? Or was it a failed attempt at facing my opponent? Either way, im glad its all fiction.  Just words and diction. One's mind shouldnt be a prison but a prism,  So light can shine through you,  And be bright enough to seperate the bad from good. By: Nceba Thabethe
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