Sometimes, counting the sand becomes the only way I could find hope,
Counting the stars bring joy to my bored heart when all love is gone;
when searching means of arranging these broken words to form a life.
They told me this virgin map will lead me to finding fate and love and solace,
They told me this road where it’s dust groans are the perfect way, but it made not the roll call of my journey.
My eyes saw a black and red Jesus,
this made me believed every man is a home to himself like the tortoise and the snail.
The fish eyes of the smoke tells of a black world,
a world of danceful agony,
The teeth of the sky on the earth again,
The eyes of the earth randomly peep from the casket of the human’s heart.
Life is but a road, a Raven, a map, a word striking in between fingers, a tale, a gulp of poisonous libidos of time; a timeless region of basketed water.
If you have this elixirs of life, let me know,
If you could take your life and still have it, let me know;
If you can look the sun on the face, let me know.
Faithfulness is found in solace of heart,
Finding the issues that made us humans,
Does a man’s joy comes from the funnel between the woman’s legs?
Does greediness and cowardice bite the air?
Loneliness is somewhere in the south,
Suicide is found somewhere in the north
Solace is somewhere in the east sliding,
One says stop and learn, another says get lost and never return, another says get lost and lost.
If you find me lustering the street of illusion, label me not as a loner.
Here I journey to find hope, to find the knitted happiness, to find a covered joy; a faithful love , finding soft solace.
Tell Africa of my painful plight,
I have seen her shadows in despair,
Not on my palms shall the air bite in annoyance and greediness.
I will come, yes, I will when I find this soft solace to my heart.
If caged in the presence of doubt and fear, the joy tilted on my tongue will sprout like fireflies and it’s hands in the air for solace is the breakdown of loneliness…
©John Chizoba Vincent