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Body stance relaxed

as the pen slides across the page

flowing free, unencumbered.

Alliteration, punctuation as

anchors for consternation.

Words created from space

to make sense of the chaos

in my body. Painful emotions

and motions without cues in

syncopated repetition.

Line break

as I ache

in my body.

This pain!

I want it dissolved

by the rain.

How can I

not feign

for it is all

so hard.

Chaos! Is

that Lagos?

I have heard

there is chaos

in Lagos.

Isn't chaos

everywhere? Where?

Inside the atom.

Why? Because

that is life.

I go back to

it being

rife, as I

remember the

ripple and the

wave. I follow

them whole

until they

disappear and peer

on the other side

in the beginning

of time.

A chyme!

Full of joy


and fervour.

This joy will

no last, lest

I remember

the cycles of life,

they are rife.

Not if I celebrate

the speck.

I am the speck

and the universe.

A Johnson

Photo by A Johnson (Lemoine Park, Kingston, Ontario)


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