Bamba

The moon fell in the desert’s lap
Its dark dunes birthed a brilliant white
His face burned bright black from love’s flames
The longing of the depth of night
A blackness pure, so dazzling
Its shadow is the morning light
The sun squints at his face, blinking
Straining so hard to catch his sight
His dark face so intense and bright
He had to shroud himself in white
Like clouds veiling the Heaven’s gleams
That makes them both hidden and seen
Like scents upon the morning breeze
The echo of a midnight dream
The dazzling dark flows through his veins
Like ink pregnant with poetry
And fills his eyes and skin with verses
Teeming with love’s mysteries
How do you see us from your seat
Beneath the shade of Heaven’s Tree?
The baobabs must look like lightning
Flashing from the earth and falling
Skies must seem a fickle frailty
Whirling ‘round your finger’s ring
The shadow of the shade of God
Leaping from your pure heartstrings
Floods the dry and dusty lands
Sweeping the old bones along
Dancing in the secret rapture
Of the silence of your song


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