Just as Madiba sat down to drink his tea, the table started shaking.
Unannounced and unexpected the little one entered the room.
Like a slut he started slurring insults and pounced on heads. Touch one, Thabo gone!
In the background  Msholozi tip-toed to the top and ascended with ease.
Unlucky Kgalema holding the fort together with no power or voice.
Smart and simple man not touching a thing, he will be gone tomorrow.

Slowly the little one gained speed, his voice grew louder and he flew higher than eagles.
Erupting like a volcano and spewing ash that went beyond borders.
Lighting fires that burnt the bonds that he created.
Little did he know the walls were closing in on his claustrophobic self
On the field his foot soldiers carried his torch and in the offices plans drawn.

Morning came and the torch no longer burns, the shower extinguished the flame
All avenues ventured to rekindle the fire but to no avail, the shower just got stronger.
Like a leaf in autumn he got swept away by the wind
Echoes of his utterances tormenting and floating away with him
Muted, his voice suddenly disappeared and he faded away with the sunset
A short entertaining yet boring show came to an end and curtains finally fall.