Foal me once, shame on you
Come closer, young fillies; I'll tell you a tale.
Sit down. Lend your ears, and let patience prevail.
Lived, years ago, in a time way back when,
a bright zebra colt, not a day over ten.
A cutie mark failed to adorn the colt's rear,
for no special talent had yet to appear.
Restless he was, and yet still there were three
days before the celebration would be.
Siku ya Nyota, the Day of the Star;
all of Farasi would come from afar.
Gathered in darkness, beneath the night sky,
singing together, an old lullaby.
This day of the star has a special night's dark:
a star called Ajabu's bright point in its arc.
Anxious Thembani, too eager to see
planets and stars, with the whole family,
found no way to quicken the time of the day;
raring to see them, and raring to play.
In boredom, he took to amusing himself,
by grabbing a jar from the top of a shelf.
Playful and free, treating all as a joke,
he smiled and glanced to his father, then spoke:
"Solomzi, look here, I'm Utundu," he said.
His gaze focused upward, not moving his head.
For perfectly balanced on top of his nose,
the empty glass bottle stood still in a pose.
Utundu, a name that you must understand,
had once been a pony who conquered the land.
Our essence was captured and trapped into jars.
He'd taken our magic and left many scars.
As strong as he was, feared by all zebra kind,
we banished him into the stars and confined
his spirit completely, contained into light;
a lone constellation restrained by the night.
Solomzi, a father whose job's never done,
looked up from his cooking and glanced at his son.
Thembani, he saw, was amidst a portrayal,
failing to see what the act would entail.
The Specter of Mischief was not up for jest,
less so with breakable glass under test.
It wiggled and wobbled; the colt had gone wrong!
Its balance could only be held for so long.
He strived to maintain it, but it was too late!
His muzzle no longer supported the weight.
A crash on the floor; the glass broke with a smash!
A scramble of hooves; he stood up in a flash.
"Clean up this mess!" said Solomzi, by shout.
Eyes full of anger, for there was no doubt
that more than the bottle had needed repair.
Thembani's fool antics were too much to bear.
"Go help your cousin! Can't have this today!"
Wide were his eyes, when the colt dashed away.
Always the careless
and always the plight.
Always the dim one
who's never as bright.
Crossing the road, he had set out to find
his cousin and help her, as he was assigned.
He found, through the door, to his joy and delight,
the young zebra filly, with stripes black and white.
This cousin of his, she loved magic, you see.
Her days spent with magical ailments, and tea.
Preparing for Siku ya Nyota, she was
brewing a magical potion because
the brightest of stars, they cannot hold a gaze,
sans helping the eyes, to protect from its rays.
Seeing his cousin, he smiled with glee,
the one who had taught him the moon's perigee.
She told him, "Thembani, all talk I must hush!
I fear that my brewing reserves are not lush."
"Find me the odd Ono lily," she said.
"The herb with twin stems; it has flowers of red."
A mission accepted, he gave her a nod,
rushed out the door and with confidence, trod
into the jungles, with flower in mind.
Onward through thickets, a flower he'd find.
Not before long, the colt spotted a plant
of which her supply had since fallen quite scant.
Full of impatience, too anxious to think,
a hasty decision was made in a blink.
The species of flower, he failed to deduct.
He took its twin stems in his teeth and he plucked.
In his neglect, a mistake he had made.
This lily had flowers the color of jade!
Trotting on home, "This is fine," he had thought.
He'd picked what he wanted, not what he was taught.
Always the rash one
whose troubles incite.
Always the foolish
who can't get it right.
Returning to cousin, to not let her down,
surprise she expressed, then it fell to a frown.
"Thembani, umzala! Pray, what have you done?
That flower of jade is less toxic than none!"
His cousin's sharp warnings were too late to heed,
his stripe color fading at frightening speed.
He'd plucked the Hasidi cursed flower in which
your coat turns all white, with a powerful itch!
Galloping home to Solomzi, he cried,
dropping the poisonous flower aside.
Facing the curse that betrayed his physique,
an antidote bath he'd be stuck in, all week.
Trapped in the tub, like a wet bubbled cage,
barred from the joys of a zebra his age.
Siku ya Nyota would go on without
the colt, shampoo covered and bearing a pout.
The following function, one year from that day,
that was the moment the colt found his way.
He acted with patience, in moments before.
Helping with earnest, not rushed anymore.
Gathered at nightfall, with every friend,
he shared all his knowledge until the night's end.
Of planets and comets; of stars up above.
Of great constellations he'd since come to love.
For brighter than stars was this one zebra foal,
assuming his zest was kept under control.
A bold silver crescent appeared on his flank;
his future and body were no longer blank.
A gaze to the stars, where Utundu, he eyed.
A purpose he'd found, his heart beaming with pride.
And so ends the tale of this cousin of mine,
whose patience allowed for his sparkle to shine.
Learn from this moment; stop acting with haste,
or more than your time will have gone to the waste.
Now, Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, brave Scootaloo:
you should have thought twice before spilling my brew!