Purpose, poetry by Andrew Ndambuki at Spillwords.com
Diana Simumpande



written by: Andrew Ndambuki



Spoken once or twice, does it matter thrice?
Flesh and blood, pain and sweat for a price
It cannot be whispered, cannot be heard
Cannot begin, cannot finish, too hard.

A little here, a little there, a lot more
A race that cannot start, cannot be won
A piercing whistle and a game is born
A trembling pen, a torn scroll, the fall.

What a waste of humanity
A muezzin’s call echoes the distant walls
A clang of bells din the cathedrals,
Another time, another day, not today.

Now, I may begin to understand the seer
But light flickers dimly, the writing’s unclear
The voice a hush, I strain to listen… oh dear
The path is windy and narrow, why do I fear?

Children play noisily in the market square
Traders sell their wares, any change to spare?
The clock chimes, the rooster crows, hair turns grey
Why am I here, Lord? In silence, I pray.

Through the crack, I see beyond my world
I hear the echo of time, eons roll the band
Seems coherent, seems clear, but I need a hand.
Does anyone understand the time and purpose?

It all starts in the beginning.
Spoken once or twice, does it matter thrice?

Andrew Ndambuki

Andrew Ndambuki

Andrew Ndambuki is an avid lover of creative works. In his spare time, he loves writing poems about life: love, music, politics, religion, death, justice, times, seasons... Poems that capture both the imagination and emotion of the readers and the diversity of their human experiences. Andrew has a B.Ed degree in English & Literature from Moi University - Kenya and MBA in Strategic Mgt from Daystar University - Kenya. He lives with his family in Dubai.
Andrew Ndambuki

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