The Sample

My heart beats thoughts of you…thoughts that are burned in the skyline of coincidence. Pregnant thoughts of feeling that are waiting to be ushered into existence, to be told to spirits in the flesh the world over: mo gba ti e, te siento, nimekunoki videadly, yene konjo
I have visions of our commerce—visions that we burst into conjugate dust!, as we discuss us in the future-past tense, in the unhidden vastness of attraction.

Snapshots of you are played in amphitheater-like moments of my dreams, without seams but connected like fiends-- chasing that high that is insatiable.

I pray for you-- to visit me every night.

The in and outsight that comes with your presence is profound, like the time when I discovered sound and began to dance like no one was watching. Like the time I decided detoxing was not just for winos and crackheads, but was a process to facilitate that moment of truth that we all dread. I have been fed…

And I have always said, “I love the rhythm of life.” It is multivariate, empty and full, balanced like gas and ice—the price… of Ma’at is not conceptual, but its reality is perpetual. This is the product of a sample. One touch- two words-provocative tastes and smells that dwell and resonate for centuries passed and to come.

All because of a sample…the idea that nature’s ointment has acted as the catalyst for ample-- expression, drama, karma and maturation is inconceivable; but believable, because here we lay in the unsettling space of feeble and secure relation.

I remain patient, with unfettered impressions of our next life. Waiting to be married to another sample.