Thursday, October 1, 2009

T.I.A

The things of dreams are carried on the wings of green eagles
Soaring above breathless clouds through wisps of wind
It is here that man was fashioned from mud and clay
The foundations of a people birthed from the earth
Raised with feet firmly planted in the ground
In the rock and in the sand, like strong towers
Beacons of hope amidst black oceans and gold coasts
Accustomed to tribulation, warfare and turbulence
Akin to sorrow, famine and disease
But one with a royal priesthood, a near god-head
Heir to countless and immeasurable riches and fortunes
Pleasures released through the release of ignorance and greed
And the need for exaltation of one’s self over a brother
This is the key to the treasure beneath the sand
This is the necessary motion that shift oceans of change
For those born to these lands are neither men nor slaves
But heroes and warriors destined to be praised, emulated and revered
That is the god-given destiny for this tribe of fifty-four, this brotherhood of colors
That we may leaders of peoples, in bondage to none
Purveyors of the divine essence of liberty, justice, and prosperity
Uhuru.