The Landscape of An African Soul - Tuli Circle

As dawn peers over the edge of the sky, In a space of the lonely kopjes and cacti. Where God roamed to the edge of a scorched wilderness, and stared into the vast land of nothingness. HERE, STANDS A PLACE ARID AND BONE DRY WHERE ROOT AND SHOOT SHRIVEL AND DIE. HERE IS WHERE HE FORMED ROCKY OUTCROPS AND SANDY STRANDS TULI IS IT’S NAME. IN THIS FORTRESS OF SOLITUDE, WHERE WIND ROLES A GUST FORMATION OF BOULDERS, PEBBLES, AND DUST. The springs of vitality forced from the ground below Sweet honey dew, taste of life, transforms this dusty bowl Where quenched thirsts were satisfied, Hunger for food became starvation and slowly crippled the dreary Only the toughest would survive, no room for the weary As time pasted, it forgot this flat open bush where grass and shrub became razor sharp and prickly scrub. harsh and foreboding. The Shashe river snaking through the sandy ground with dust and rubble on the fortress mound So men came to conquer and forge his own path, What madness is this, why was he so daft. But, when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object History is written. Wheels of progress move steadily forward Rocks being used to build roads, bridges, houses, and prisons So hard, tough, and cold these objects are to house the idea of future dreams and missions. The stubborn will to settle, made peoples focus rock solid. But as time marches out and onward, the memories and sentiments pasted through like a gentle breeze. All that is left is the forgotten memories, graves, and relics of buildings old, Hunters, Riders, and Voortrekkers cry out from the dust and sand, that fortress of Pioneers, Tuli.