The Spirit of destiny speaks

The spirit of destiny, who bore witness to creation,

Came and walked among those whose ancestors

Inhabited the Land of the Gods

In pre-dynastic times.

Beneath the garb of civilization

He wore amulets and charms charged with primal energy.

Bluish-green phosphorescence pulsated beneath his matted hair

As he spoke a mythical language in a garbled tongue.

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He had journeyed from the axis of space and time

To bring word to those who had lost knowledge of their ancient ways

Yet were unable to unravel the mysteries of the new,

For foolishly they continue to believe that

‘The wolf and the lamb shall feed together,

The lion shall eat straw like the bullock

And dust shall be the serpent's meat.’

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He who had journeyed from the place

Where myth mingled with reality,

Spoke to them of their forgotten destiny.

He said that mankind was like a circle

And that Africans had lost knowledge of their centre,

For they no longer know

Where they come from,

Who they are,

Or where they are going.

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He said their ancestors were guardians of

A deep knowledge that affirms and aligns

Man’s affinity with Mother Earth.

They strove for the perpetuity of the world into eternity,

And the alignment of inner self with the spirit of higher self.

They paid homage to the divine messenger of transformation

Who sits at the crossroads,

And from the hills of creation

Touches the earth with the divine sword of retribution.

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He who wore the white cloth of purity said,

You who are the descendants of the first among the initiates

Must respect the mysteries of your ancient land,

And seek reparation for the evils done to those sacrificed

At the altars of alien gods.

He said, you must evoke their memory

For their dying illuminates life, and gives grace.

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She who is the spirit of the wind that cannot be seen

Entreats you to take heed of the society of the wise,

For they caution you to be ever watchful of those among you

Who erect alters to alien deities and say

The written word is the word of the only true god

Who gave man dominion over all things.’

Respect their beliefs but never bow down to it,

For one man’s icon is another man’s idol,

One man's religion another man’s superstition.

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He who is the essence of the thunder and lightning

Exhorts you to pay homage to that which extracts

Goodness from the realm of the invisible.

Respect the spirit of health, wealth and good fortune,

For the earth is your feeding ground

Taste in its stores the alimental nature of its spirit,

And know that it is sacred.

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Pay homage to the king who does not die

For he is the essence of the knife that clears the path.

He counsels you to be wary of those who say

The god is dead, and all that remains is mans will to power.

For given time there is nothing

That cannot be remade in man’s own image.’

Understand that science is their religion,

And from its chaotic intelligence flow destructive

Impulses that tempt, and corrupt mankind.

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She who is the essence of love, beauty and fecundity,

Implores you to pay homage to the spirit of the seasons,

And know that hatred of that which is created in your own image

Has become your blight.

You must endure the agony of the rites

That will make you whole once more.

She said Africans should never accept their designated

Place in other people’s hierarchy,

But must become masters of the totality of their achievements.

For what is two thousand years in the course of your journey

From the Mountains of the Moon,

Down the Blue and White Nile,

To Punt, Kemet and beyond?

For shrouded are the mysteries of Africa

And that in time empires all decay,

Like the oak-hulled ships that took us away.