A work that thus far seems so fresh. A hurling mass of humanity that some way through the serpentine angles of society manages to call themselves at right with Jah, and that rat race we call human. Where has been the consanguinity that besets us? Has not it been manacled up by the very corporeality we hold so dear; our own psychology? Of the same we slay offenders, and beatify the same. Nevertheless, this still holds true, the enduring presentiment of a work well done is as sure as a simple peach in the morning coolness.
Flowers in Africa
4 weeks ago