Walisema penzi letu
mwishowe litopunguka.
Walisema jua letu litazama
na giza itatanda.
Walisema rohoni utanitoka.
Walisema penzi letu litafifia,
libaki mazoea.

Waongo hao.
Waongo hawajapata
kuvutiwa na penzi.
Waongo hawajapata
kuridhishwa na penzi.

Waongo hawajui
macho yaliona wengi
lakini yakakuchagua wewe;
Kwa hao hakuna niliyemuenzi.

Waongo hawajui
moyo wangu ulipoa
kizuri nilipokipata.

Waongo hawajiulizi
“mbona kanipenda wewe
na penzi ukanitwika?”

Waongo hawajatambua
sitochoka na sitokuacha;
hatokuja mwengine.
Waongo hawajajua
tusharidhiana wenyewe
na hatuwaombi chao;
Waongo hawajakubali
tumependana wenyewe,
waamini wasiamini.

Waongo hawajui
ahadi tulizotoa
zilitimia pale
dunia iliposhuhudia,
na Mungu akapenda
na akatia sahihi.

I am an epic introvert, who quickly becomes an open book when I pen what’s in my significantly fertile mind; fertile as a result of bombardment by realities that are continuously captured by my inquisitive eyes, ears which are constantly rubbing the ground, through constant reading, and through dreaming too.

Writing provides an opportunity to ‘say’ what my unapologetic quiet mouth will not say; which not only soothes me, but also bequeaths to me a relief, a release, and a hope that the written words will change the world, even if only one person at a time.

And so should you seek, that’s where to find me; deeply tucked inside the blankets of reading, seeing, listening, dreaming, and then writing.

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