Rise
He speaks with a purpose that demands an ear
with soft, soliloquy of word to shelter the breakdown
the emulsification, the blood of brothers and fathers
and women carrying the weight of man.
Storyteller. Anthropologist.
One voice rising to the many
he flows, iridescent
he shines, obsidian
he correlates and calculates
he smiles with his movements
and holds life teaming in his hands
Brother. Father. Son. Troubadour.
His rhyme, his beat
The vision
a conclave of change and same and old and now,
turned to end
water trickling simply to the journey
the hard footsteps, the sweat, the beginning
Forward flow in authenticity
Clay to bring civilization halting
and word from lips that weave magic to truth.
he utters self and sound
while the world waits and hearts everywhere answer the call,
“Rise, Be, Change.”
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