The sky fell. Arts were indicted. To put silence to
rest. I kept moving swiftly, Love had a number, suffering stomach pains. Threaded
in voices, listening to mentors, confused about it. They gave up, dedicated to
drugs, lifting a private flag. I kept moving, Love spoke it boldly, it’s a
shame how we live. Years would pass, tranquility chastised, just becoming a
creature, a snake, another dragon, with Love remembering rain. To hear a song,
to erase time, to become a creature: it was war, those years. I relish in one
fact: some daggers we live with, regardless, it’s immoveable. Pianos and keys,
wondering, wandering landscapes, listening to dead souls. The road has been
intricate, incognito pains, dramatic a lot. Freedom born, the greatest nation,
washing indiscretions. A small fever, a boxed life, with liberties being
trespassed. Its fessed up, it must be mutual, altruism has reciprocity. I kept
moving quickly. I unlocked her aura. I asked one question. To have lived in
disguise. I knew her worries. I shared her coffee. Like racing a clock, trying
at excellence, forbidden by galaxies—as between countries, seated in a city,
color coded, loving our neighbors. How have we lied, living hypocrisy, feuding
with philosophies; beating drums, returning to Africa, raving over Bethlehem;
the pool is stirred, would we dare to become prophets, walls, acrobatics!
