You...

                                                                   
                                                                 
                                                                 
                                         
What is it that you do to keep me in curiosity?

How do you weave that spell, conjuring up unrelenting interest from








all the way over there?









It was your convo
I saw your passion
I got to read your mind
I felt your words

And then I met you.

Your fingertips blazed phrases in my direction,
translating interpretation
of said words from your soul
into newly defined adjectives
of what you want your life to be.

All you had to do is ask
and I could have proofread your living journal,
edited myself into your diary, cutting, pasting
crafting short tales of satiation
and long entries of salvation
with a slew of stories about happiness
that would make the ornery blush
and the dignified jealous.

Your momma could have read it and smiled.


I knew that you've placed emotion
that you cannot direct
at the presence of a human void
into the children you yearn to mold,
yet your shape in the scheme of things is illiformed.

I'd like to dig my hands
with the help of my mind
and the focus of my spirit into your clay,
make shapes that will serve as foundation
and probably build a home.

In the spirit first.

All I could ever hope for is dialogue and prayer.
Maybe we can take the leftover alphabet
and unused phrases
and build a bond of trust
that neither of us would ever want to violate.
Assemble bridges based on faith
and then
cross over into newfouldland
whenever you're ready to model your new outfit of self.

I hope it's form fitting.
2008 Hassan Olumoroti Ntimbanjayo  -   Sho Nuff! - Ya Dig?