Cracks

 

In life, there are cracks here and there. The tricky part about them is knowing which ones are necessary, what to do with them, and precisely how and when to act.

Some cracks need to be filled, while some must be left as they are. This is because they let the sunshine in when we need it. Others allow raindrops when we least desire them, depending on the time and place. When we least expect it, they lead the way, guiding us to the path we need to navigate to our ultimate destinations.

So, in a nutshell, we need to study situations fully before acting upon them decisively. It's tricky how the previous solution may not always be the accurate one, depending on the time, place, and, of course, the situation.

The mess is always in our messages, but knowing how to decode and encode them is an art on its own. And no one is here to teach you but yourself, so stay alert. 

Make decisions, and even if they turn out to be mistakes, there are lessons to be learned from everything. Rebuild yourself. At the end of this chapter, I'd like to reintroduce myself as the Mystical Phoenix, as I am rebuilding from the ashes of the last "life."

By "life," I am specifically referring to the combined previous years of my existence and all the highlights that, as different themes, have affected who I was and who I am becoming. I'm the same "old soul" with new insight, a new touch, and a new approach, and the aim is still to push and lift the rock of reproach for rebirth. 🐦‍🔥

My name is Mohlalefi Motsima. Like any other snail moving slowly toward a direction, please be sure that I am here to leave my mark, whether I make it in time or not.

Peace in These Pieces

 

Verse 1: 

Affection assassinates - I'm too altruistic,

My heart’s a hostage, held in halls of the mystic.

Trust is a toxin, truth turns me timid,

I'm torn between temples and tenets I never admitted.

Selfless to a fault, like saints in the scriptures,

But pain paints poems in paradox pictures.

Peace in these pieces? A puzzle with pride,

I’m a prophet at war with the pulse that's inside.

I Can’t fake the funk, no fraud in the frame,

I’m flames in the forge — ain't a fraud in my name.

Half-hearted? Never. My art’s in ascension,

Each line a lesson, I’m the class in the tension.

Lifelong learner with a page as my preacher,

Pen bleeds purpose, every phrase is a feature.

Chapter begins — I’m the ink and the plot,

A phoenix with pens, I’m what legends forgot.

(ad-libs):

Yeah... that’s grown man talk...

"Peace costs pain, bruh..."

"Write through the war, my dawg..."

Verse 2: 

I spoke to the stars and they echoed my ache,

Soft-spoken soldier with a weapon of grace.

Love is my labor, but it labors me too,

Plant seeds in the soil just to pray they break through.

Balance is delicate, dance on a blade,

My spirit been tired, but I still give it praise.

Can't build on betrayal — that base too brittle,

Still I lace these riddles like sacred scribbles.

All I ever gave was soul, no filter,

Each line laced with a lifetimes elixir.

Can't numb the truth, I feel it like thunder,

Peace isn't soft, it's forged in hunger.

I'm not pretending, I'm not pretending,

If I give, it's whole — no piece for lending.

This the chapter of fire, the page don't fold,

I walk through the silence with faith untold.

(ad-libs)

"Sheesh… speak that spirit."

"That’s royalty right there…"

"Truth don’t need no armor."

Verse 3: 

Peace in these pieces? Nah, that’s a paradox, where trauma been tap dancing in a pair of socks.

I write with the ghosts of the gods in my margins, the ink in my pen got the weight of a Martian.

I gave more than I got, that’s a lopsided ledger,

Still built an empire with bars and no measure.

Every verse is a vessel, a blessing in code,

I spit manuscripts molded from pressure and cold.

I’m the sum of my scars, ain’t no shame in that math,Each wound is a glyph, every line is a path.

I don’t rhyme, I resurface with purpose and wrath, took the pain, made a prism, broke the cycle in half.

Yeah, I'm calm now — but don't mistake still for settled, still got fire in my belly, ink heavy as metal.

It's chess, not checkers, I sacrifice kings, For the peace I been searching’ in these symphonies I sing.