Today’s poem reflects on the idea of manifestation, which is a concept my grandfather brought to my attention. Essentially, our thoughts instruct our future, like a “call-and-response” game of creation. This piece is my reconciliation for feeling bedridden. Nevertheless, thank you for being here! I appreciate you.
let me set the scene , there’s a realization hidden in the seams , it’s communicating in a language i don’t speak ,
pushes me to reach , past the feeble comfort that i work to keep , new frontiers demand a pair of sore and beaten feet ,
, . an insinuation of progression flies , like a featherweight , rides , like a roller skate , cries , without
leaving any trace , why , because status can be power and not every case , has the setup to reciprocate ,
, . weapon ammunition comes in different kinds , can facilitate , knives , or eradicate , my , sense of
purpose-driven haste , while , undercutting my defenses with a stomach ache , nature telling me to medicate ,
negativity’s , brought , on , by , me , flip the script , my fulfillment’s a response , to my thought , stream ,
chose to be asleep , plopped , on , one , cheek , but the tick , of the clock is in my palm , charging heart- , -beats
– D K T
