From thoughts and words arranged on a sheet of paper, these words pushed with feelings, and overlaid in emotions. Actions and reactions, life takes on a new direction. Moments addressed in time. The gourmet of words to feed on. More thoughts, more dreams. The passing of the older generation and lacing words together to draw understanding. Reaching inward to draw on the blackness of my mind to share the gourmet of words to feed on. Time served in America. The truths and the untruths. And I am still writing backward. To wonder where I am from. How clear is it to see where you are going? And tomorrow will not be here until twelve o'clock. All the engagement between the pen and paper, black ink placed upon white sheets of paper, and at times thinking like Thomas Darwin, black crows and white swans placed in the same pond. The effects of matching the right colors, that we have the perfect room. And yet those are times when questions are asked but the answers never came. When did a black man realize that he was a black man, seeing things in a different way, but looking at the same thing? History with all its curves and turns, the past, the present, and the future. I find myself locked with in these words and feelings and covered in emotions. And at the same time the clear color of tears are the same tears, for happiness or sadness.
