May We Meet Again

Where dreams are gold of thought Where cloud are silvers of hope Where future husband the street Where ghost don't crack bones of human. This colour of African night depict water A formless form of laughter tickling home If this history be made of Kinta Kunte, I will lit this weekend with a strange tune Which will end up holding the image of forever. May we meet again where cock are debris of footsteps on the oceans of mysteries. We might giggle with a different tale on We may pitch our voices to the cold hands of daring heart of thunderous elipsis... We may trace home giants of illusions We may not see the darkness in eve hush noise, not through this armpit zipper of services rendered in a torn lips of lost humanity. May we meet again where we make muse a knight with a name & face & identity We'll send forth our song to many places where our mind have raced without a print May we meet again where love crossed path and time lose concentrations in the camp of attraction of what we have finally become May we might again as a pilgrims in prayer, Our hands a home bringing tomorrow' peace. May we meet again and embrace wetness Wetness of love and hope for another' emotion At the sight of the emptiness in the hallway, We will stand to erase every ooze of doubt Hold on between us death and life to conquer this deafening silence may echo beyond shrunk Nights of our skins before the sun unmask May we meet again and again and again Where we part no more with legs of departure. ©John Chizoba Vincent From_A_Pen_Refusing_frustrations.