Destination Qoaling

Why these faces are scratched on stone, I do not know,
I forget the purpose, like I forget why we're going.
Take this path we’re on, for example. I s'ppose
it'll either wind into a fog, or set a certain, standard
order-of-things, and leave us astounded.

See, I need to feel the rotation of the earth
to know I'm using my wings. What's more,
the sun's gonna tarnish our world and these resources
as if it is on the move, as if it alone has the aurore,
to target us with brute force from above.

When we get to the destination, let us circle-sit
and pass around a gourd of home-brew,
the smell of hops and pot proof of our visit.
Only thus will we feel at home on this spot
where one is at once servant, and also lord.
© Rethabile Masilo
© Photo credit and copyright

More destinations at Sunday Scribblings.