We are an undying tribe roaring to be reborn, as we sit at the top of the Northern hills.
The yellow Sun rising from the east, as the birds fly under, chirping.
The sound of the Vuvuzela in the south marks the awakening of the clan of dancers, warriors and singers.
Echoes of our wisdom and heritage travel as far west, as we hold on to the horns of our galloping gazelles.
Each whisper as loud as screams, whilst aliens tell folk tales; trying to break us apart from within.
Heading to the bed of flowers Mother Nature created for us; her scent she sends forth with the wind.
Even with the darkness lurking, we are the life and light of the earth.
We are wild and forever young, as the lioness in the southern jungles.