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 A Search
Writing poetry
Is like a journey
Where I always never
And ever reach
My destination
Alone
I try to persue
A blurred dream
Up the sky
Held by a fountain
Atop a misty mountain
With a style
Only to discover
That in the dead of the night
Dreaming becomes living
But with daylight in sight
Living turns to be dreaming...
And I go on searching
In the paths of my conscience
That thing I would like
For my dear delight.
©Nasibu Mwanukuzi aka Ras Nas
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