There is a world in my head, and
from the moving of breath, i know.
the night steals a sigh from my breath
and this blank space crawls in my eye.
these nights house a graveyard, even
an illusion which is real'ty
as dreams are. these nights house the soul
lying b'neath the soil of emptiness.
these nights are happy as a child
who knows nothing about darkness
while staying in it. innocence
is a gathered grieving of a
body flow'ng out of its spirit.
these nights are holy with the sins
of darkness; shooting arrows of
lightening and a soul's victim.
these nights are as distant mountain
flutters of roses 'n' hidden breath
of whispering spirits. these are
in the night of grieving laughters;
in its elation of sadness.
these are nights of my moving breath.
and its mournfulness. is gladness;
in its awe is living behind
the breath and breath'ng before the eye.
what darkness is compared ' these nights?
"words from the innocent mind"
Akinwale Peace Akindayo