My brother the witness was the first son of the advocate. 🇱🇸🇿🇦
Stream that @unklekrack Thought about it 🇱🇸 available on all major streaming platforms
Among the first bred to last, he spoke into existence the stories of both present and past.
Some sought the glory the fine embroidery and a likeness in silver. While others fought for the Common men upon the lorry and those entrusted with the grass.
The voices of the mass from whom the land and map is traced from the palm of the hand.
Though it remained in their eyes. The mark between the path and wayward wrath.
Some remain trapped, others destined to be the staff.
As those who wandered and returned having been endocrinated on the understanding of the sun's math, will preach as the wise elders laugh.
For no one man can encompass the longest story that ever came to pass.
The first shall be among the last. For the spoken warrior forging against the greying ash what could be a greater task.
Imagery courtesy of Dlala Badman Style ™ Sefikeng Sa Moshoeshoe Maseru Lesotho.
They remain open in mind.
The souls of restless hands threaded upon prayer in images reminiscent of the start.
A clan fixated upon circular lines, the margins between the endless fire and the spark.
The signs of a life lived wise. For the stars selfishly guard the rise of the devoted sun from the dark.
Planets suspended in flight the products of the anxious rumblings synonymous with a God's sight.
The young naturally gravitate towards this peak, distantly near he remains within reach.
Among the oldest trades the sherphards still teach. They remain our leaders, expectant fathers in feat, the pride and of those first to retreat from the long arduous waking sleep.
May their righteous labor hasten her blushing orchid skies to weep.
For there can be no long lasting peace than the gift of a generous harvest fought through persistent sleet.
In the beginning not long after the smog of the salt and ether the Lord decreed that the earnest stand in the house of the fallen to ensure a brother's will be whole.
Imagery courtesy of @thefabricera (IG-OG)
The plot between two seeds is a restless course best likened to finely woven seams.
The flock remains a gathering from where the presence of the spirit is seen. The dreams of man then hold no reverence without her brethren.
The way the fields hold no yield without protection. The brother who scatters that which should be ploughed prepares a nest among crows. Selfishly guards his brow yet discards his neck to the cold.
The fall of the earnest arose a call of the wise to conduct the affairs of those in their trust as their own. For there lies no temple for Cain or for what Judah foretold.
The essence of Honour transcends the greatest of odes, for even the young follow not that which they are told.
Nestled between the road every son's hand knows as home.
Beyond the certain and unknown. Beneath the plains from where the greens shall surely grow.
Cast from our reach within a moons breach. Never still nor without glow. The cross and till of devout preachers tied by deed and seeds yet still to fully show.
Tell me brother when last was it we truly felt the warmth of fathers smile enveloped by the snow.
Could we forget such a sacred Gasp the bitter sweet whispers of a past rebourne.
If not for his laugh, or pagan hymns of the native wanderers encoded with His true score.
Star gazers in constant awe of her outer shores, the heathen's fervour from the rocky northern unchartered pass.
And as the clouds parted so did the shimmers whispering the graceful fall of a long stubborn drought.
The swaying reach of palms swelling to the psalm of crossings overflowing from the cup.
The ambered crown of endless light ushered in by the spirited flight of mist from the rift of her eye.
Mother's nature favoured crest. Always toward the north.
Seldom without the stuttering shutter of an awe stuck lens
The beholders each committed to an eternally fleeting gaze
Enveloped by the trapezius summit from where ancient streams once wept.
Along this pass amongst the stars lies the stirring songs of years long past. As present as the ambient glare of a defiant parent's presence within the air.
No soul near or dear fetched could leave this earth without such a heir. For such is the fate of the bearer a refuge of antiquity and nature's eldest quest.
The allure of off color magenta chucks on a stalwarts heels remains reminiscent of the struggles yet still to come.
The pupils of the forgotten tasked upon the righteous fight soured by the lore of false glory and ill gotten gain.
The Game was never beholden to names of those coyingly distant to the repurposed vein. The Stream from which the masses pleaded for a space but in vain.
Theirs a story only applicable to the condition of the native remade a beast of burden, the contemporary reserve of unwanted labor, only written upon ancient scripture as the innately depraved.
The wild unearthed guests upon treasures only the west were fit to consume. Or so the only permitted odes of old go of those who's place they assumed.
Buried beneath the toil and tombs of false idols the promise of each generation is but a stuttered bloom. From where the blind led the walking toward the precipice of damnation and doom.
The cost of civilization remains the stolen artefacts they furnished upon mother and fore fathers land to make room for their zoo and occupied coup to loot so as to commence offerings to strange stowaway roots. Reinforced with burning metal fire and stomping boots. The last rites were the natives rights.
Rest in flight. The plight continues through you and the pebbles of tablets spilled and languages diluted slightly.
A view to embolden and inspire the would be Wright brother in freight.
The lowest point north of a radiant mosque. Sefikeng Sa Moshoeshoe.
You can contently be lost here. Under the watchful eye of those who carried the cross long before the missions broke ground here.
Amidst the swelling air of passion enthralled by the persistent calm of what was, is and will be of the guardian's heir.
The Gallery remains a topic fraught with both contention and fanfare, promise and a recluse from despair. Jarring contrasts from which the student emerges from the chair to overcome the defiant glare.
For those adverse to the cure, the leaf, the shade, air and oil of that which glides among the trees mintly creased is yet still of their release.
A little piece of what is promised only in one's sleep.
A distinguished clan disguised under the finest wool of wayward sheep.