In This World . . .

In this world, I am encapsulated in the belly of all possibilities, where my motor functions temporarily cease, my ability to function in the physical world is a non-existent reality.

In this world, I plunge into the realms of insanity, where I feel the most sane, where my nothingness turns into everything. Anything.

In this world, I indulge in the foreign complexities that come with every delivered word, the simple contradictions, the well-structured prose.

I feel most at ease with the intensifying stomach twirls that are borne of the anxiety from the wonder of the next words, where life breathes its truth into my heart.

In this world, I can transcend every logic, be free of all human ideologies and create my own ideals that flow like Lake Nyasa, ever-changing

In this world, I gain all strength to question even the most highest of powers, and I berate my tendencies of insecurity. For in this world I can abandon my presumed maturity, my natural fury to all the prevailing injustice, to be appeased by the pregnant silence that lie in the syntax, the light emotion of a character’s soul, making my woes and joys worth it all.

In this world, I am alive. Totally engrossed.

In this world, is where you’ll forever find me, where you’ll forever see my soul, where my spirit has room to travel all the wonders of the earth, even when I appear stationary in your eyes.

In this world, I know the meaning of truth and love, of vulnerability and strength, of reason and faith, of exposure and defeat, of uncertainty and remorse, of forgiveness and pain, of leadership and fellowship, of sexuality and sanctity, of a life-long learning. All of these which are me yet cannot define the eternity within me.

In this world, I can release a piece of my tortured soul.

In this world…this world of books+

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