The sun is a country where I spent
Loneliness, like it mattered, like it was a substance
I held my own hand from the inside
Dropping turquoise tears of the silent kind
For speaking was not something I do well
I don’t know charm and schemes
Evading the point of redness, I move on
Like a nomad without a place in society
To which there are no wounds or tragedies
Only days raw with the agony of inevitabilities
I did not accomplish my own truth
It swallowed me like a youth wasted
The greatest tragedy is not to live
My poverty was the inexperience of freedom
My poverty was the heartache of rejection
There was nowhere in nature where I could exist
Free from the tyranny of a final dreaming and a total dream
I was myself, a speck of rainbow dust in a cosmos
Of color and I was on fire, and my life was burning.
Wuji Seshat 
excellent
Thanks Berry, it’s the season to write
and season to love , thank you dear
that’s true, I feel the dew is rising in my chest
aww ho swseet…
Yes and there’s humming birds, charming ones that glow green in the night, Berry spring is so sweet to me…
Lovely!
Photos and words. Perfect my friend.
Reblogged this on johncoyote and commented:
Amazing photos and words by a talented writer. Please read and enjoy.