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Kobus MoolmanINSOMNIAOnce again he cannot sleep. Once again sleep eludes him like light through his fingers. Once again he gets up, puts on his feet, pours out his eyes The window gathers silence tightly around him like a shawl. The silence has the colour of memory. The colour * * * AMBITIONYesterday he could easily still believe Today he woke up And at that moment he knew * * * SURVIVALWe who accept survival as our password accept incompleteness as our blessing. We who dress in blindness and in faith do not know the colour of our palms nor the weight of our feet upon the water. We who have dust in our mouths all day have stones on our tongues instead of songs. We who quench fire with fire all night know that wings are not the only ladders to the dark, that heavy wood swims too in the tide of the wind. We who accept survival accept survival as our curse.
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