I am guided by the light of myself
and of others, of course, on my blank road
that I draw on earth, vanishing like shelf
life: useful in time until I explode:
The beauty is this: I explode always –
(you can explode and exploit endlessly
the effigies of truth) – but my mind stays
aloof though steeped in its time fearlessly:
It is not an act; this is really real
when the shining sun caresses your neck
and lifts it up, and you appear like steel –
hard, brilliant and strong, though they call you “black”:
But I am all colors – (the effigy
explodes); this frame is you; the flame is me.
urbansonnets 