Wheeling
our aimed journey over the majestic plains of the Freestate,
The sun
creeps in luminous trails from behind Hades' abode.
Icy
Fields and quite poles dance past a hurried view,
Of he who
is cursed with departures.
A wanton
road slips beneath us,
Temperate
chimes of dawn hear by the fooled.
Cattle at
a vigil, yawn with the curves of mountains,
Beneath a
golden wash of might.
Photographs by: Khahliso Matela
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