I move about in a delirium's gaze.
Neither here nor there, yet bound the same.
Traveling with the inertia of lighted footpaths,
I swaddle my yearnings in cloaks.
Cloistered breaths seek less restriction
So my Bantu'd Sistahs can find chill relax
I Speak.
Someone requires voice
Telling the truth for another so Soul's burdens
Wash like linens in spring
Hung to dry for the world 2 Breathe.
I claim neither perfection nor dissipation
I serve to channel the coming Dawn.
She Speaks.
Her Yesteryears sang of rivers, loosed skins [Shaken], and crystal stairs less Traveled
She Calls.
Griots for this Generation sought
She Yearns. She Yarns?
Tales need telling and Truths need Yelling.
This magical lilting turns brass to gold
Melts fire; Frosts glacial snows
Indigo 2 Crystal 2 Rainbow
Doors swing open
Mercurial bouts of understanding flutter through passers-by
Like Mental Butterflies
The Tides shift and the diligent are prepared.
Some choose the nocturnal dance of fairy sleep.
Dreams cemented in lackluster non-reality.
Porous ideas taking shape in wet clay;
They wake to mud and cry "foul"
Balance bears shelter gifts that come with no regret
Uninvited, they arrive at the behest of Karma.
Forewarned is so bitterly and so often forgotten.
She Weeps.
Not to the last.
She weeps in the hopes for 2morrow
"Matter has reached a point of knowing itself... [Man is] a star's way of knowing about stars."
- George Wald, Metaphysician.
