• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 02
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How to Be a God-Being

I can start by calling all the gods together
In a solitary prayer. Pour libations. Pour liquor. Grate a kola in my mouth. Spit on the deities. Sip whiskey. Rinse my mouth.
Spit on the deities. Or I can start by
Burying my heart inside my locked palms,
Then pray some more and let them unlock
The miseries and the mysteries there and just when they are still at it. I strike. When they are still looking for answers. I strike. I let blood flow.

I can start a poem with a god as the subject,
and their subjects as nothing - only to turn around and have them executed, then, pick my things and go looking for answers myself. Like, why are they gods? Why am I human? Why are they not my subjects? Who made it so? Who first thought it so?

I can become a wanderer living in a wanderer wondering what life is without wandering. Or I can become a fugitive with a soul as fake as that of the sun's smile on an eclipse. Or I can become my own light and god unlocking my mysteries and solving my own problems. Why have I not thought it? Who has not thought it? And why am I still so foreign to myself even as I try to reconcile the self from the other? Why am I still wandering?