And So, On The Day [A Qwerty Jazz Experience]
This is my debut beat tape. Enjoy this Qwerty Jazz Experience. Ndiyabulela!
There were moments in the man’s life, Moments Like Keys to open new doors he had always dreamt about. One thing prevented the change he so craved, only one thing stood in his way, himself. He always heard voices in his head, “Dead Him” one of them said. He knew killing him would bring freedom, but he didn’t want to be without an identity. “I don’t want to be no Funky Clown’ he would say, “walking around with a painted on frown making everybody else happy”. Something was different this time kodwa; there was a drive, a feeling inside that he had never known. This here, now, was Halt! or Flight! “I Am No Name”, he declared, and took a leap of faith as he ran to save himself, by losing himself. He remembered as he ran, all the people he so loved that he would be leaving behind. All the memories he had created, everything that had served to define him up to this point, and he wondered if they would still be a part of his new me. “What of love?” he wondered, “will I still be Judith’s Theme?” this remains to be seen. He looked up as he was now struggling for breath, looking up ahead to see if there was light approaching. All he saw was a line, part of a long list he had drawn to keep himself and others from crossing and breaking his rules. The very lines that landed him in the position he was now running from. A voice came again, “Move The Line” it said, move it and keep running towards a New Discovery. He ran through it, suddenly a wind started blowing, a gentle wind. He wondered if these were the winds of change the elders always spoke about. What he did not see were the bits and pieces of burden the winds were blowing off and landing in the trail he was blazing behind him, giving birth to a new him, like his own Offspring. When he did feel it; it hit him hard, like a breath of fresh air. “My Thoughts Are Clear” he thought to himself, “I know Where We Gotta Be”. He headed For The Forest. The trees always reminded him of his childhood, waking up to the coo roo-ct’too-coo of pigeons on Saturday mornings at his grandmother’s house in the early 90’s. He was now deep in the cover of roots, bark and leaves, slowly trudging through as he took in the soundscape. Something caught his eye in the distance, something red on the ground. He walked towards it; it became clearer as he got closer. It was a bouquet of red lilies. He picked it up and looked around to see where it might have come from; all there was were trees, nobody in sight. He concluded to use the bouquet as a wreath to bury him he no longer needed. A fitting symbol, flowers delicate in their nature that rose from a single seed to be a source of joy in the hands of a lover and a decoration of comfort in the hands of the grieving. He walked deeper into the forest looking for a suitable spot, he found it, a rock big enough to serve as a headstone to carve a message and place the wreath on. “Here lies the old me” the message read. Not one for sentiments he got up and walked away. After what seemed like an eternity of steps he heard a sound, one he had always imagined. It was the ocean, the unmistakable sound waves washing over the sands of time. He stood still to prepare himself, and take in a deep breath, relief at finally being here. In that moment, the Prelude to what he would experience, he knew the chains would fall when he finally set foot on the Shorelines. And So, On the Day he found his freedom.
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