This is part 2 of the seed of origin. If you didn't get to read part 1 click here to head to that post.
Verily, she's the seed of origin
with such supercilious gesture she trembles
on top of generations, every nation
sucks up the milk from her bosom, the earth tumbles
in her genuine presence that is never deceived by time.
**
Her vigilant eyes are mirrors of what was, is and is to come.
With authenticity she weaved the periods of the three and lived as their by product.
The rain weeps for her blessing so it may never break into asunder,
she is watched up on by stars of high society,
she utters placating verbs that speak the language of silent thunder
leaving the cosmos speechless with wonder.
**
Her being is entirely celestial, she respects helself
and values her body that sprouts seeds of origin.
Seeds that are perpetual, her smile is of a floral in spring.
Her image is produced by beats of substantial drums
that spew the rhythm of life's visage.
She's very large, in decency, kindness.
**
Her saliva is the holocaust of her savage,
she caresses my face with her palms
that contain no veins, but tubes of love.
She drains the power of my brain
with her hands that shape the nations.
Her portrait was drawn by constellations and seraph
she's the epitaph of mother nature.
She dwells in the universe on behalf of the heavens
her apt individuality is like the sacred ocean
that only the righteous may drink from it and forever
live harmoniously with the would drink from it and forever
live harmoniously with the world outside and within.
**
She's the seed of origin.
The real penicillin
to our ailing world. The magnitude of greater things to come.
When she sprouts she sticks out like a sore thumb.
©Vincent Mbatha (
Image Sources: Pexels 1
Pexels 2
