Within the corridors of my mind, structural apartheid and nuanced radicalism converge, giving birth to an insatiable yearning for the flesh. You cannot escape my gaze; I have become an indomitable force, capable of seizing your thoughts and channeling divine energy. What I wrote years ago is now unfolding before me, as every writer is, in essence, their own prophet. Yet, the extent of my understanding of myself is but a fraction of what remains hidden in the shadows. The pursuit of impeccable taste and discernment often transforms me into a caricature of narcissism and anarchy. Bound by social constraints, I am but a frustrated child, starved for nourishment, while my silence reverberates, urging me to contemplate the temporal and spatial dimensions of the Holy Cross.
“To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour…”