Of Buffaloes and Birds.

I play this little game with the truest part of myself.

This is why I am this kind of artist.

I feed this truest part till it can take no more goodness.

Then I am able to write.

But I like the other way more better,

Where I starve my truest part till it can take no more.

It gets hungry then angry.

It then swallows me up and makes me twist.

I wonder which you like.

But it won’t matter.

I bet you know which one writes.

One day when not a single sun has been darkened by the deeds I despise,

On that day when the sea stops singing and turning to the seductions of the moon,

Then when the winds stop carrying my gossip to ears of those gods that wish me anger,

While still the bees continue to hum of the sweetness my roses deliver

The day when the buffaloes abandon the birds on their backs.

On that day come find me.

On that day maybe you can see this truest part.

But first the suns, the seas, the winds, the bees and the buffaloes.

Even when my time here runs out.

Remember me.

~Koome Manyara~

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