The Myth Maker
A Poem
Let spotted leaves fall as they fall,
Immune to the sky’s back-talk and spasmodic miracles,
The oracle of seasons only comes to fill the void,
To cut off that hand before you reach for your demise.
Haul those eyes back to your dreams, jittering seams and gasping lights,
Embers, leftover unturned stones and fights —
That you nursed within yourself before the smile became too heavy;
Water in your eyes and there is fire in your heart —
So will you give the world a drink or will you give the world a spark?
Moonlight has spread tired beams across your path —
So, you must travel far enough until you meet yourself,
Books were made for minds not the dust of the shelf,
Boats were made for sea, not the silence of the harbors.
notes: Sometimes I write to myself as much as I talk to myself, there’s a quote by Anne Frank that says that paper has more patience than people and I’ve found it to be quite true because we create when we write.
I’ve found immense encouragement and strength in all the support I’ve received in the last few days and frankly speaking, it has been overwhelming, even to be featured on Medium’s May roundup, I still can’t believe it all. This is me saying thank you again for all the supports, no matter the form they come in, It really means a lot to me.
I do hope you find some inspiration in this piece to continue showing up and putting your stories out there. Thank you for reading 🙌🏾🤍
The MPP is not available in my country, and neither is Ko-fi but if you’d like to show your support, you can consider tipping me here. I appreciate your kindness.
