Run from me, the moon center of you at a constant clashing resemblance to the evermore we promised each other. My promise lost inside the circle.
how I miss your conversation. How these silent days conquer the past and lend to the future. “Tell the stories old man”. My glasses cover me, opaque and deafening. My senses aren’t failing. This is not failure.
The greenness of the fields and the blankness of the tongue. These are just words. Contextually dead. The over growth of my affected mind. Be forever truthful again. Perhaps it’s just a co-morbidity. A synergistic effect of wanting and denying. Contextually writhing. Clinging.
Faith is the ease, and the gift. Faith is the ease.
art credit : Oluwole Omofemi (Nigerian, b. 1988), Lost in Thought 1, 2019. Oil and acrylic on canvas, 120 x 100 cm.