Words

I once thought words were houses built by sunrises, Kept together by sunsets, not able to withstand the rain, Not able to ascend into heaven to be heard, These words that keep me alive have no home to reflect and believe, But music never finds home in unwiltering escapes, Oh WORDS, be my home, fill… Read More Words

To S.M., A Young African Painter, on Seeing His Works – Phillis Wheatley

…. May peace with balmy wings your soul invest! But when these shades of time are chased away, And darkness ends in everlasting day, On what seraphic pinions shall we move, And view the landsapes in the realms above! There shall thy tongue in heavenly murmurs flow, And there my muse with heavenly transport glow;… Read More To S.M., A Young African Painter, on Seeing His Works – Phillis Wheatley