The mind drifts, a slow meander through the garden of time, Seeds of curiosity sprout, their tendrils reaching for a sign. I ponder, a question whispered on the breeze, soft and low, What future will these tender buds, my children, come to know?
Will they stand beneath a sky the same cerulean hue, Or will shades of grey and smog obscure the boundless view? The lessons I have sown, with patience and with care, Will they take root and blossom, or scatter on the air?
Romantic, isn’t it, this tender scene?
A father’s love, a daughter’s slumber serene.
The moonbeams paint your cheeks with silver light,
A lullaby of love, a starlit night.
Remember, darling, when you wake from sleep,
This love that’s yours, forever yours to keep.
It’s woven in the sunshine and the moon’s soft gleam,
A love that’s more than whispers, more than a dream…
“Gratitude,” I read aloud, my voice gaining strength, “was born in every corner of your soul.”
Kaka chuckled, a tear glistening in her eye. “And mine, my dear, was nurtured by the blossoming of yours. We’re a garden, you and I, each bloom adding its unique fragrance to the whole.”
Joseyphina (Ghana): chuckles You paint a beautiful picture, Nsatu. But for me, Afrobloggers is more like a giant talking drum. We each beat our own rhythm, our experiences unique, but the underlying message resonates across the continent. It’s a powerful force, this platform we’ve built…
This is my story, a peek behind the curtain of my blogging journey. It’s not a story of grand achievements or overnight success. It’s a story of quiet passion, of facing fears, and of finding my voice in the vast digital orchestra. It’s a story that continues to unfold, one keystroke at a time, with the hope that it will resonate with someone out there, somewhere, in the vast unseen audience…
Read “From Script to Syntax: My Alpha Techie Experience“ by DMT on Medium: The initial lessons were brutal. Lines of code resembled cryptic messages, a jumbled mess of commands and variables that seemed more suited to an ancient spellbook than a modern computer program. Frustration gnawed at me. My fingers, accustomed to the dance of storytelling, felt…… Continue reading A story from DMT on Medium
In my walks, in the quiet whisper of nature, I find the solace to forgive the past. It’s there, too, that the strength rises, a phoenix from the ashes of despair. It’s in those moments of solitude that I remember who I thought I could be, who I wanted to be. And for a fleeting moment, the weight of years falls away. I feel young again, the embers of those lost dreams flicker once more, a faint warmth against the chill of reality…
DMT 