Forty
days and forty nights passed four and a half times more than I wanted
For holding my breath until your return left me somewhat daunted
But it was not, is not, and never will be my will that will be done
But rather it is the Will of the Most High, The Holy One
Who has brought forth the bristling rays of the sun
And caused them to arise over the Western horizon.
God, Allah, Jehovah, Yah is always at His best,
Providing to us His best, though not without trials and tests
Which means the King was obligated to go on excursion
Through valleys of vices and over crags of perversion
To Senegalese sand more perilous than the Persian
Just to carry back to me a taste of the immersion
That he received from sipping the sweet Sacred elixir
Shaken but not stirred, he has become the mixer
The chaser to my intoxicating iniquities
And eradicating my masochism and resulting self-pity
With poetical lyrics ever so witty
But poignant enough to get to the nitty gritty
Of who I really am and why I do what I do
Why sometimes I'm royalty and sometimes I'm the court fool.
He holds the mirror to my own self introspection
While shearing away the veils that hide my reflection
So I can gaze upon my fallacies and thrust them towards subjection
While cultivating the serene lea in me that denotes my perfection
So now the King is beaming with the brightest of solar ray
That has captured and is overtaking this subject whether at rest or astray.
Penetrating my auditory canals with the song he was born to sing
Reminding me of the melodies that the Prophets did duly bring
And filling my days with anticipation of rebirth like the coming of Spring
I cannot help but to be elated over the Return of the King.
MameDiarra Bousso M'Backe
