A chasm.

A universe before our eyes. A mistake we cannot revise. Water that will never freeze in the desert heat of night. A truth that will not restore trust or count as truth. The loss of ever seeing night or day, because you are hemmed up like Samson: caged; eyes plucked out; night and day’s sounds muted; vulnerable you are and vulnerable you will be; when is parole in this life sentence?

Night laughs. Day cries.

“No, I was not like David and sent a man to die”
“No, I was not like Martin Luther King Jr. and stressed out of this world.”
“No, I did not resist gravity as I was pulled in.”
“Yes, a man does perish without vision.”
“Yes, a black man mostly die in two places: in streets, on stages, balconies, and in sheets.”

“Woe unto me; for I am a man of unclean lips.”

Honesty reaches ceilingless and core.

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