Let Us Find

Or Recording Again. Why do I get such vivid dreams? Stories that beckon being retold. Remembered, and retold remembered, redrawn and retold. She was set apart for time. I for blood. By the geometric, spherical, mass. It hovered in the air, captivating all those pedestrians milling about. A suspenseful moment, an expected surprise. Why did we feel as if it had just been a matter of time. Or was it Just me? This globe, with repeated and reflective cuts and crevices. Man-made in semblance- it must be! but wasn't. clearly couldn't be. Illuminescent, yet cloudlike. White and silver. reflecting light that wasn't it's to reflect Shocked, we all stood, staring at it, speechless yet murmurs also circled through the air. Why did we know to be cautious toward it? Who recognized it? or was it just me? As if it was almost supposed to be, just not be here. It moved carefully and so did our gaze "there it is do you see it now? It's still

Faith has always been my saving grace The reason for everything that didn't and couldn't make sense My ultimate motivation that transcended what others would have told me wasn't worth it. Faith brought my family from Douala, Cameroon to Portsmouth, Virginia An assurance that the loving God who provided for you in intelligence, in success, in luck Would provide for you even in this new, challenging place, with much fruit to be harvested. I always would run towards that fruit. The fruit my parents put in front of me from the moment I could add. Seeking success, accomplishment, but most importantly, being able to seek while still being a "good" person. After the lectures, I defined it for myself: Just because I have to succeed doesn't mean I have to trample others on the way It doesn't even mean that I will not need to ask for help. I had the faith that I was capable, and because of this capability, and because of this faith, I did. I pursued

I miss feeling important to someone No one is there to wake me up I struggle finding my own reasons to This bed is soft and warm it takes nothing from me, demands nothing I'm free to vanish beneath white covers  blinds drawn, the idea of a sun soothes I have no one to do with,  I can't sustain myself maybe weighing less could help me bear I have no idea how to get there I wish their smiles would be enough that their words left a mark but alone, everything disappears impact fades, motivation withers  blankness is better, no surprises, I control everything and also nothing. ... If only this complacency wasn't so out of place Timing is everything and I've failed. On the road to successes, you took the ground away What, I should float? I, like you, am not supernatural Just give me back what you took from me those days, hours and minutes that meant nothing to you anyway give me back the girl you took away in exchange for a fr

I don't know who to turn to. I don't know how. I don't know. What is trust? Est-ce que ça existe hors de notre reconnaissance? Is it the bond that forms through enough time spent together through enough shared experiences, commonalities Does it build off the length of long, deep conversations over sitting with one another, pondering the state of some remarkable thought, belief, idea, fact. Does it supersede and transcend motion, mistakes, distance, flaws and insecurities? Does it allow us to overlook the things that would make two strangers decide against talking to each other. Or is it an idea? Something to keep our conscience busy with every encounter we make. A pleasant presence to complement relationships. To validate our vulnerability, if only for a moment. Until perhaps we build up the gumption to stand, take and hold for ourselves, (after some event that provided a transparent enough reason) How is nurtured? Through love? Compassion or sympathy?

I can't escape into this world of plastic simulations and make-believe, caught up in their own limits.  There's no way out into any other haven Freedom only as vast as my imagination, sucked dry.  The worst nightmares have come to life Terrors of bondage, frozen in time. I used to know of this world, I used to have control, over the passing times, I owned the key to my destinies, and held the power to design.  Both past, and present were mine and future only just beyond.  Then, time moved, and I moved with.  Until I blinked and saw my state.  In half a moment, I lost control. Time was no longer mine.  It flew past me, into obscure abyss,  It left me in its crystal dust, I was immortalized. Time reclaimed its headless place,  and left me to my shame.  I had no throne or reigning staff, I was master to none,  I had no ground beneath my feet, no propelling force fully submerged in ignorance, is this what others felt? The lack of sight into my nexts, uncerta

Hatred that comes from within, turmoil that can't be materialized, an agitation and unease to the deepest layers of being. Itching and scratching to uncover the scathed bruise that no one can see, that no one understands. what is the source, where did it begin.  We only seek to answer that which we know we can. That which has origin.  Is it insecurity?It must be mistrust. A lost interest and belief in everything; all is tainted and flawed, after all.  Displeasure and disdain for the limited. It is too much of mine.  too short [of divine]. Can we not find refuge from the objects? From the definitions, the projections and the productions. Those above which we used to know we had control. Can we not find refuge? or is it that we strayed too far? I used to know right from wrong  and where each laid.  A giganteous monster now has risen, composed of all familiar deposits "Dechets" we couldn't do with. The fear of having turned away, long ago from s