On the soils of life are printed
The deeds of the living and the dead.
Walking through I saw
With admiration and despair,
The footprints of Prudence and Folly.
Who through persistence
And diligence in action,
Have printed marks indelible.
Going beyond the shores
Like a journey without return,
They wondered amidst bright and pale flowers.
Knowing that destiny
Like the gathering of clouds,
Has collected enough moisture;
And the rains are inevitable.
In the bank of their thoughts
Are the reserves and the returns
Of their toil on the soils of life.
LOUIS SITSOFE HODEY, AUGUST 2011.