Should the moon peep Or the Sun creak The clouds are always At our feet Should the sky sneeze Or the wind dance Our paths leave a line Of a non stop continuity If time were a ferry Then we would row back Tracing our identity and Claiming our names would be the aim. Times without numbers nor alphabets I ponder what the fore elders thought.. They gave me this shoe for an aim so beautiful yet destructive now to our age I mark my fingers on every door My markings are all on your streets Search not for me you'd see me I call each day, but now it's all but a mere voice already used to We've seen camp fire nights Shivering in cold with our dusty rusty garments We've tasted the greatest continental meals all made from maize with a delicious drink of untreated water We've been surrounded by so great importance We lay with trumpets as lullabies They bit in.. these tiny Lil sucklings taking the Lil blood we have left flowing in our ve
