Written by Offorjamah Ogonna Felicitas

 

Confusion was the time I remember.

When the shape of the sun was the shape of the moon

And the colour of the moon, the colour of the sun

 

Confusion was my obsession.

As if fate undeciphered and contrasting motions

Possessed my soul

 

I do not resist that trying not to confuse

is confusing my state of confused confusion

 

The eye sees what the ear wants to hear

The tongue tastes what the nose wants to smell.

 

Daggers of positive negativity

Will not make us die young

 

Instead we will see when the moon has faded

For our eyes to see clearly

And the sun dull to make our darkness brighter.

 

Text © Offorjamah Ogonna Felicitas

 

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