Here we are again. Still forbidden. Still taboo and enveloped in fear. Our mouths are like sandpaper. No saliva housed in them. No fruit or bread through them. Our hunger goes beyond the physical. It is like an unsung psalm that exists only in the heavenlies. It has not even been fathomed by the cherubs and yet we feel it already. We crave for what we shall never have. What have we if we have not wishfulness of thought? Dreams are the anchors that keep us here. So dream. Dream so that you may taste a crumb of the cake that could well be yours when you awake from your slumber. Hunger and thirst for a better you. Better to become a better version of who you are. Love every fibre of your being. Maybe then others will allow themselves to love you.
Frank Malaba©2016
Frank Malaba Prosetry 