In a place where hope was gone,
strength a word of the past.
The old perceived death and embraced their graves.
Heads bowed down for all was dimmed.
A heart-tearing cry sounded from the lips
of the innocent, the torment of destruction and darkness
was overwhelming.

Here I was like a potter, the future displayed
before me waiting patiently to be molded by my hands.
The pot of clay filled with stones of corruption,
abuse, crime, poverty and little pieces of nepotism.
Where do I begin for I am just a boy?
How do I separate soil from clay?

Oh wait! The creator created conquering capability in me.
The hope of many lies within me for I am the youth.
Creativity is the lamp that lights my way.
Infants open wide their mouths for me to place a silver spoon,
how do I deny such to the innocent?
My eyes wander around in search
of precious metals and minerals.

A journey to be counted among the great awaits.
The road ahead is long, better I put on sandals
resistant to poverty and abuse. A cap to protect
my head from the harmful rays of bribery
is to be put on my head. Spectacles of wisdom
have I placed on my eyes. Education is essential
to keep me hydrated for the long journey.

Surely the future must be bright for I rest not
in the shadows of failure. Let other nations
make way for the rising star in the bottom of Africa.
Fear not for I am fierce and young.