MIRRORS OF RUST

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There are two roads:
one in space and another on my way;
I carry with me a tree on my back,
I am mad
but I don’t crack;
my laughter is full of tears,
or maybe I be lost on verge
of my lost years;

I am smoke from a tree
coming down to be a haven soul
blessed with the holy stone,
I shine like the eastern star;
imprisoned in the belly of her,
my grey hand shall heal my soul.
Alone with the mountain and the snow,
Don’t forget to read the signs of a comet,
for ages opens closets,
secrets are spelt bit by bit;
Nests are built for the tail;
Failure reveal looted ego,
foreign strength to eat with the joy
of the struggle.
Leap and learn,
kings are beings
and the creator is a word,
a very, very silent word
spoken in green water
and I am lost to the end.
My lord is my strength.
He let me work nice in mirrors of rust.

This poem was written/submitted by Salamu Bakili.

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