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Sunday, 9 December 2012

My route, mapped out

Found reasons on seasons  
To facilitate my observation's path 

Mapped out contours body art 
With topography on hills and valleys 

My palm is to be read 
As this tattoo of my habitation 

Earth is a line, drawn for directions 
Each is my own route map I take 

Jail break on thoughts baffles   
The avenue of my junctions 

Compasses are made from the stars 
On the globe I carriage on as a traveler 

Between time and space 
Each wrinkle, marks a passage drawn 

Tomorrow I will be with the cosmos 
As a stardust that once walked this earth 

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  1. excellent closure kodjo...those last two lines...and jailbreak on thoughts....cool piece man.

  2. "Each wrinkle marks a passage down"....what a wonderful line Kodjo! An amazing piece of poetry for sure!!

  3. Beautiful and a great closure.

    Anna :o]

  4. ..wonderful poem... and you have given many ways to dig your imagery here... the notion of the compasses being made from the stars is great... smiles...


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