Madiba The Duke of Africa
You have the face of the man whom my heart entitled as Africa's Jesus.
Standing on the hostile ground, way beyond the stars we received a postcard from the edge that there is fire on the mountain, fire in the skyline.
Hamba kahle, So marks a day that we speak the language of a broken heart
Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela was one whom we borrowed from God, we speak the language of mourning.
Hearing an African son's bass yell "umkhonto we sizwe". Hear an African mother ululate. We hear an African child's cries for the son of the soil, Madiba.
One did not have to have known him in order to be liberated by him. It is within wise man that if words are said and understood so shall they be believed.
He as an individual epitomized the values of sacrifice, stepping out of prison after 27 years is no exaggeration, he was a political inhabitant of Robben Island with a dream to fight for equality
He was One who seized to give up, a captain that refused to let his ship sink, A Lion that laughed at hyenas.
At the tail end of dawn to dark death has become of Madiba though the journey never ends. We can choose to measure his life in the daylights, midnights and sunsets he has sat in confinement. How does one measure the life of a Man who fell into the clutches of circumstance yet never quailed nor cried aloud?
A strong voice and an unconquered soul.
As you look down on your Rainbow Nation hear it weep yet celebrate your forever victory in different hues
Rus in Vrede Madiba
Hamba Kahle Tata
Good Bye Mandela
You have the face of the man whom my vision sees as Father Africa.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Death has become of Mandela, a dweller of the land above.
Standing on the hostile ground, way beyond the stars we received a postcard from the edge that there is fire on the mountain, fire in the skyline.
Hamba kahle, So marks a day that we speak the language of a broken heart
Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela was one whom we borrowed from God, we speak the language of mourning.
Hearing an African son's bass yell "umkhonto we sizwe". Hear an African mother ululate. We hear an African child's cries for the son of the soil, Madiba.
One did not have to have known him in order to be liberated by him. It is within wise man that if words are said and understood so shall they be believed.
He as an individual epitomized the values of sacrifice, stepping out of prison after 27 years is no exaggeration, he was a political inhabitant of Robben Island with a dream to fight for equality
He was One who seized to give up, a captain that refused to let his ship sink, A Lion that laughed at hyenas.
At the tail end of dawn to dark death has become of Madiba though the journey never ends. We can choose to measure his life in the daylights, midnights and sunsets he has sat in confinement. How does one measure the life of a Man who fell into the clutches of circumstance yet never quailed nor cried aloud?
A strong voice and an unconquered soul.
As you look down on your Rainbow Nation hear it weep yet celebrate your forever victory in different hues
Rus in Vrede Madiba
Hamba Kahle Tata
Good Bye Mandela
You have the face of the man whom my vision sees as Father Africa.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Death has become of Mandela, a dweller of the land above.
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