Stones became ornaments when shallow waters became deep ends, when reflections of slave boys became freed men, when yearning became seeking, when dreaming became conceiving, when extras became lead men, when rain drops became cleaning, when meditation became treatment, and when strangers began reaching.
Twice in a week period, I relapsed; I thought I was more than I was. And for a second, it felt like I was. Then the reminders came with the fist of gravity that guided me home and like a drunk, I appeared on the ground. The concrete was cold. The world was cold. I was cold.