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  • Writer's pictureAlfanTheGreat -

Scriptures of Nefertiti

Updated: Jan 26, 2019


Within the physical vessel presides the metaphysical embodiment of God in skin, bone and a conduit of flesh too.

A blank book within a vehicle known to man as a library, without walls you feel like nothing. I turn the page stained by solus, devoid of plurality there are merely nouns around you

No subject to be in conjunction to, you're just subject to the tides of the moon. A life so hollow you can hear the silence talk.

It whispers hymns of despair and carries the lingering scent of longing in the air.

The whispers speak volume whilst shallow emotions drown you out you, beautiful fool you, let your own demons consume you all the while without knowing the devil is your own thought, there is no voodoo here.

So alone, the emptiness mocks your fate you ill-fated child, no-one truly knows you, likened to a book with no face, she barely knew herself, she was a false truth.

A conflicting contradiction.

Like a book left on the shelf, she yearns for connection like nothing else.

To feel alive she needed to rein attention and before I knew it, her words gained traction with my fingers running down her spine, only to find open: the wrinkled pages, another was here before me.

From the polar ends of the earth, with two lips, pursed, I blew the romanticised dust off your story. She says, "I want you to really know me," but maybe it is intimacy that she craves, a weighted sense of sensation. A means by which to gain recognition. They look and stare at her beauty but never did men see who she'd always been...

A bittersweet taste contaminates my mind as I envelope in her lullabies, a marriage outside wedlock left unconsumate, a bouquet of lies. What is left of you now he has left? How could it have been love when there's nothing left ? Your words have lost meaning, you now embody a tainted chapter, like an unloaded gun, empty statements lie limp, forgotten like the morning after

They thought you were an old story in which I found a grand novelty; my dear Nefertiti. A being as strong as you will always attract men who need therapy or healing

for the simple reason that it is more than just a feeling. I read your pages twice, the holy book to your essence, lessons from a heavenly temple - coated in melanin, to be precise.

Who even said God was white?

She asked me to make her whole again, so she may return to her throne as sovereign. She longed to find what they stole, a piece of her: the blurb or introduction so with my tongue, I recited her truth, destroyed the old fallacies and rewrote the whole story. Till my tongue was bloody, reminded of her power to birth history.

- Alfani Ndayishimiye

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