the collective contends not with me,
all that is i allow to be
is echo’s image i trust to see.
i wane the world around,
to situations, likely relations,
twisted interpretations
of conceptions and sound.
what is real —
or merely postures of the grave,
am i the ocean or the wave?
insatiable thirst i think be true,
seeks delight in the black of blue.
to the noble abyss i strain to surrender
to fathom am i the sent or the sender?
what was rend will soon be won
when the parody ends all is one
source separation returns to drought
unquenched, dry and disbelief
memoirs of misery, colic and grief
drained and barren is the body of doubt
nothing hailed i see as whole
sagacity grip my solemn soul
solidified logic be overwhelmed
by protean habits in a quantum realm
– K. Osei
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