A stranger in a strange land.
As I set my foot on the scattered soil
Where barely printed
On this obnoxious domain
I feel the enraged breeze towards my fur
Looking at the well-crafted clouds
Yet, so brooding

Combat is about to approach
As I discern miles and miles away from the environs
Feeling the dispassion from the antecedent
But feeling the aesthetic atmosphere
How strange is this territory?
Just like the buzzing bees that sting you to illness
Yet heal you with the oozing warm thick sweetness
Still fail to understand this vexatious presence
Questions echo to the mother nature
As confusions battle within my mind
A different scent has been smelled and that is worrying
“Crying is for the weak!” they say

But what about the strange land that has already crumbled down the African roots
Crushed and torn the hearts into tiny little pieces
Then these golden warm tears are worthwhile falling onto the ground
Let it be saturated with the blessings that are filled with bitterness, with optimism
That it will uphold this castle at the highest part of the hill
That will entice the stranger on the strange land!