I shall not cease raising the standard,
Even though I’ve swallowed pain and staggered.
I shall not cease to dream of morrow,
Even though memories seek solace in my marrow.

Memories of being labelled a rotten mushroom
For nature painted me black with a genetic broom.
Memories of drowning into the falsehoods of fate
Because slavery was seen as my truthful mate –
Yet I am the incessant bloom!

NO! NO! NO!  Echoes my voice in the ragged mountains;
Not again will my tears birth fountains.
I’m swimming in the lake of uncertainties,
Have mercy! I sought comfort from the deities –
Yet I am the incessant rains!

They pushed me into mud of injustice but I rose again.
I sweated in the fields of hope and yet rewarded with no grain.
Not again will I weep for my deserving freedom,
For I still believe there is a better kingdom
Of a daily incessant gain.

A haunting cry is a natural sonic boom,
But in the ears of a dying world it flies to doom.
I will not stop till I get there, I will keep trying,
For I am the incessant bloom.


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