Damned be the things that crash the softness of my insides.
I am standing next to my coworker who turns and asks why I don’t speak tales of a lady who tames me.
I turn and look him straight in the eye, he is honest.
I am untamable, or not yet tamed.
He asks why.
I am worthy of goddesses not queens, I have no riches save magic.
He sneers and calls me just another lonesome Author.
Now I look at him with the force of those beneath my feet, he still is honest.
He sits and goes on to say I should sprinkle my dust or else I will be what I am always afraid of, forgotten.
I am nothing but a shell full of Stardust Rafiki, solitude is a condition for this.
What is it with people trying to find themselves in others?
I almost told him the little lines and words that join my limbs to body and muscle to bone.
I just look at him, reading the silliness of his honesty.
He goes again and says that I deserve it all, the bliss people offer.
He says I seem and feel like he who has a drunk soul.
I have no more words for him, but he keeps adding on.
He says I need to get tamed, that I am nothing if I keep my dust.
Paper burn, Paper ash Rafiki! There are things you cannot understand Rafiki.
~Koome Manyara ~