There is a certain new tempo of rhythm br when the old flare of the nomadic is dim br rustling through the thick undergrowths br gnawing at the hearts of African youths br wading through the oceans and high seas br so solemn beyond what the mortal eyes sees br on every valleys, molehills, and mountains br flowing raw from the prehistoric fountains br Nkoyeni’s cryptic urgent clarion home call br gaining momentum without a sigh of a lull br br Rushing homewards is the youth with gains br albeit the hurdles, untold gory joys of pains br multiplying what Africa lost in the bargains br br When the old lofty barns we now overflow br heightens our paces home will never slow br when the sated pastures no longer greener br evaporated is our old naivety of a learner br then comes the seeping away of the brains br which has finally suffocated the old drains br br There is also another great trek of a new flock br whose genes are not part of Nkoyeni’s old fold br these new creeds now speckle the youths’ pluck br in old sojourns as new trophies returning bold br the other new races now migrate on their own br their returning instincts to Africa never disown br br where nuclei human first sprouted life abroad br their climate the foolhardy greed had polluted br their panting thirst for cleaner air very broad br the power of forgiveness revenge now uprooted br legendary African spirit to accommodate given br the pillage, rape, indignity, forgotten, forgiven.