Room Temperature

My heart is an ocean
Its waves of thought crash
Sublimely on the shores of reality
Who keeps dumping waste in it?

A storm has calmed,
Leaving behind
The debris of indifference
I didn’t plan this, Did I?

Subjective chains
Hold down my spontaneity.
I procrastinate the shipwrecks
I wink at the Lighthouses
Sneering at their stoicism
As I cut knew shores
In their place, in their face.

What are my talking about?
Their places are faces to me
I grow in knowing
By knowing them less
Replacing my intellectual
With thoughts ought to have been
Thought and taught.
Mistakes are becoming rare
And sinking.

I walked this way by default
My indifference comes
From practice, often pain full.
Painful when I don’t weed
The garden that grows the life.

My heart is an ocean,
The harmattan won’t live…
Not on my shores.

2 thoughts on “Room Temperature

    • Its just a reminisce… About how my mind needs continuous renewal… These pastors are just humans to me… Life is getting clearer to me and mistakes and harmattan represent the kind of hopeless downtime I refuse to recognise or allow.

      Yeah that’s it


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