In Africa, on a dank, dark day
Came a man who blew the winds away.
Across the plains he raced his horse,
Holding straight and true his course,
Before him sped the breeze of time,
Barren spaces, hoards sublime,
Wheeling, spinning, whirling, whorled,
People lost in this new world,
No excuses, arguments,
Simply life with no augments,
As it is, as it will be,
Grasp your future, set it free.
He moves too fast, this man of might,
Does not tarry, will not fight,
Eyes held forward on his goal,
Horizon bound, for us to know.
© Copyright 2015 Robin McShane