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After the rain, 
the Sun will rise again
we have been in darkness since they arrived
in their caravan of dreams with empty promises of change, 
and constructive untruths, with which they tricked us to abandon our familiar ways
to walk their paths of retrogressive progression; 
for which we accepted their baseless theories:
hook, line and sinker-
unquarantined! 

We were competiting perfectly well
before they came in multitude of allied forces
preaching the message of political salvation, 
and of unity in diversity,
soliciting our mandate to cleanse the land of its filth:
to lay solid foundation for our children and our children's children; 
to revive us from the comatose of corruption hampering our collective goals; 
to expunge segregation and gender discrimination from the polity; 
to create equal opportunities for the youth and women alike; 
to harness our untapped earthy endowments for our communal advancement; 
to cultivate vibrant seeds of peaceful coexistence, to erase poverty from the land...

Unbeknownst, like chameleons, they had come hiding their true colours behind highly sugared manifesto
and with enticing propaganda, 
they planted seeds of discord amongst us
to frustrate the Second Coming of the Messiah and his message of transformation and sustainability.  

Today, the yields of the seeds they sowed speak volume
for we have become aliens in our own lands, 
slaughtered like rams, gradually losing our freedoms for fear of the whip of their change agents, lurking for favourable loopholes to maim their compatriots...

Before our eyes, they dismantled our umbrella of unity and handed us brooms to sweep off the fragments into moulds of segregation and favouritism...

We are the architects of our own discomfiture, for we stood by the river and let lather slip into our eyes; now, we are drown by their incessant upsurge of blame and revenge, and no more do we hear echoes of our greatness, Giant of Africa! 

Truly, they have cleansed our land as they promised when they first came to us
as we feel the grip of their iron fists: milking our cows dry, sweeping clean the harvests stored up from many seasons of perseverance and diligence
(and many have lost confidence reposed in us)
for with their lips, they have condemned us to the world. 

Cornered to this island of solitude, we have lost our bearing and our sense of belonging and the centre can no longer hold...
Who will be our Moses to liberate us from this repulsive stagnation and lead us to the Promised Land? 

We have been neglected on this voyage, 
on this journey of collective aggrandizement, 
but after the rumblings of the rain on this phase, 
the Sun will rise again...
If we are willing to change the tide, and raise the sails; 
after this torrential reign of terror raining down on us, 
the Sun will surely rise again.
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