Should I Hope Before Death Comes?
Yes, hope before death row!
I will fight it, find it and fight it, find and fight that which is hidden in plain sight; the uncanny loopholes for life’s subsequent uplift, dwindling this poignant night.
Which should I dredge most? The day or night’s mediocrity? Both of which hunch men's shoulders, causing them to slink along the streets vaguely abashed instead of walking erect among their fellow men with independent ease.
These mind illusions cause men to drift even when they decide to focus. It becomes a sort of habitual behavior amongst men.
What on the mind of the earth is there to fear? The sorrow of satan is the construction of accurate thoughts of faith, courage, hope, and definiteness of purpose. I assume every human’s conscience drifts between neurons and emotions, all in the head, mind, or whatever human thinking faculty is considered.
I am the first of my kind; therefore, the devil is after this mankind, but as a good gesture of royalty, I magnanimously lure him into my abode with the charade of opulent butlers.
Through the balcony, I often hear its swift footsteps as the spirits' cadence energy; so palpable that one’s shadow becomes a legion, but fear not when shadows lucid the inner being, or when its dance steps epitome tranquility.
These are ancient drums, sacred talking drums like the mouthpiece of the ancient flute, made in Alkebulan the birthplace of mankind, carved from a turtle’s carapace and plastron.
From yard to yard, city to city we beat the rhythmic coherence into the circumference of planet earth, the universe.
Educate yourself about Africa, the richest place on earth, the history that's written in their souls tell stories of ships that sail distant places robbing humans of their civil rights, bastardizing culture and religion, tears are tough when fathers cry more than the rumbling skies, today we keep our chins up and heads high.
Our children must be taught, the science and the arts of Africa; we are entrusted to take the shackles off our minds by ourselves. Sad to see the old slave mill is grinding slow but grinding still.
These intellectual herb men, people believed to be historical frontiers of medicine, and engineering, developed scientists and religion, discovered mathematics, invented writing, original builders of civilization, artists and builders of fine arts, and the great pyramids, and the architectural achievements that still baffle mankind.
I am assumed as a wise man while in pursuit of vanity; my thoughts and abstract intuition made me a solivagant of hope.
It is believed that in sobriety the mind is most sound. Ironically for me, its intoxication alludes my mind to erudite ancient knowledge; I get to outwit the mental shackles twirling around the reapers’ grip.
Black scorpion stinging the most beautiful butterfly you will ever see.
I see things in my dreams, like a harass of horses hoofing in the uphill and valleys of the town. The last I recently saw was the transfiguration and coherence of an Alkebulan masquerade and a European masquerade ( the Santan Clause).
Nowadays I have come to understand and admire nature and its universe's laws as mere beauty and ugliness, the ugliness of another shade, the beauty of a silhouette.
How much could we hope? How many wings can we spread out the cacoon?
