Where do you begin in the stream of life?
It feels forever is lost inside the beauty
of impregnated words I find
between rhymes that you easily invoke-
May I love you without knowing your face
or the tone of your skin, without ever being mine?
I can love with the heat of a sun setting passion aflame
or the flapping of wings of the Adonis blue,
I can love you in my clumsiness or my grace
with every exhale casting spells in your name
and every gesture reserved just for you
through the times where you always begin
by the endless words in a stream of your life-
“I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounded, no matter how faintly, I would send other words to tell, to march, to fight, to create a sense of the hunger for life that gnaws in us all.”
― Richard Wright,